


To Borrow a Goblin

by Rayac



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M, Forced houseguest, Law Enforcement, Mystery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:47:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26166619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayac/pseuds/Rayac
Summary: Toby needs a favor. Not just any favor, mind you. The kind of favor that he thinks only his sister, someone who has called the Goblin King, can grant. A missing child, suspicious creatures, and government involvement push Toby to ask his sister to get him something unusual: a goblin. But Sarah should have known you can't borrow a goblin without intriguing the Goblin King.
Relationships: Jareth/Sarah Williams
Comments: 31
Kudos: 118





	1. An Unusual Favor

"I need a favor, sis."

The girl on the other end of the line sighed. "I'm running out of single friends, Tobes."

"It's not that kind of favor," he groaned. "It's for work. There's this big case in the office. I think you can help."

"I don't know anything about law enforcement."

"That's ok! You don't need to. I just need to borrow one. One of the goblins, that is."

Sarah about dropped the phone, scrambling to keep it wedged against her ear. She knew it had been a mistake to tell him about what she'd done twenty years prior. But at twenty-one, she'd thought he finally was mature enough to handle it.

Apparently not.

"You've lost it, Tobes. Are you sampling the drugs your office has been confiscating? Do I need to call dad?"

"NO!" he exclaimed so loudly Sarah had to pull her phone back. "Really, I'm fine. It's just this case in the office. Representative Olson's kid's been taken. There's this weird cult that reveres goblins and demons and fantastical stuff like that. My boss thinks one of the followers took the kid. We need an inside man, err, goblin."

"You want an _actual_ goblin to go undercover for you? Seriously Toby, that's ridiculous. Even if you had access to one, there's no way it would blend in with whatever cult members you're tracking."

"Well, uh…that's not quite true," his voice lowered into a hush.

_"_ _Toby."_

"I'm not supposed to talk about it. Can I come over? Tonight? I'll be able to explain then."

Sarah rolled her eyes, but knew she wouldn't be able to get around it. Toby was persistent. And because of her recent disclosure, very good at guilting her into doing what he wanted. "Fine. Seven o'clock."

"Great. Thanks, Sarah!"

She hung up the phone, frowning. He had always been an imaginative kid, but this seemed to take the cake. Wanting to _borrow_ a goblin? They weren't like cups of sugar. Did he think she just kept them around the house as pets? She snorted at the disastrous image. No, she hadn't seen one in twenty years. Not since that night. She'd never suggested anything different to Toby; there was no reason for him to think she'd have a spare goblin he could borrow.

Clearly, he just wasn't cut out for law enforcement. The stress had already gotten to his head.

Sarah checked the clock on the microwave: 5:09. He'd be here in two hours. Possibly sooner, knowing Toby. Enough time to make dinner and dig out the book from the back of her closet so she could remind him that's not how the wish worked. And that there was no way in _hell_ she was wishing him away again just so he could grab a goblin to borrow. Hopefully he wasn't stupid enough to try that on his own.

The gold lettering on the red leather-bound book had almost faded away, the consequence of years of re-reading. At 35, Sarah had long grown out of the childish trinkets she'd coveted as a child. But the book was something else. She told herself she just didn't want someone else to get a hold of it and accidently wish a sibling away. It was for the world's protection. She conveniently forgot to address why she just didn't destroy it.

She thumbed through it wearily. She knew every word by heart. There almost wasn't the need to have it out when Toby came, but she thought he'd been more convinced of how ridiculous his idea was if he actually _read_ what it said, though.

Quietly, of course.

She tossed the book on her kitchen table, startling her cat Jasper who'd been sleeping on one of the chairs.

"Mreowwww," he offered, arching his back as he stood.

"Sorry, buddy. Let me get you dinner."

Cat fed, Sarah busied herself in the kitchen, trying to figure out what she could make with the meager stock in her fridge. She enjoyed being a fantasy writer. Really, she did. She got to work from home, set her own hours, and didn't have to dress up every day. And she got to create fantastical worlds with heroines that always saved the day. Having lived her own fantasy as a teen, she didn't think she could ever give up that part of herself. But not having a steady income was difficult. Especially now that she'd fallen hard into a writer's block.

The eggs and shredded cheese were pulled out when she decided, after some hesitation, that the leftover piece of birthday cake wasn't an acceptable dinner on its own. Scrambled eggs it was. Again. She sighed as she cracked them into the pan, knowing she might have to get a second job if her writer's block didn't dissipate soon. But the horror of being chained to a desk for some boring nine to five job had kept her thus far from looking. She didn't think she could stand it.

She dumped the scramble onto a plate and sat down in one of the chairs, quickly flipping to the local news on her tiny tv. As she expected, the screen behind the coifed newswoman showed a bolded REPRESENTATIVE'S CHILD MISSING headline. The screen abruptly changed to show a photo of the side of a man's face, turned almost completely from the camera.

"Authorities are asking for the public's help in identifying this man, believed to be involved in the kidnapping of Dylan Olson, Representative Andrew Olson's one-year old son. Anyone with information should call the Hartford police or the FBI tip-line at…" Sarah sighed and turned it off, taking her empty plate to the sink. Toby hadn't been making it up; the kidnapping of a politician's kid was a big deal. It had to be for the FBI to be involved.

While she waited for Toby, Sarah pulled out a pad of paper to brainstorm ideas for her next book. But as she chewed at the end of her pen, she realized the only thing she'd written down after several minutes was: _Missing kid? Snatched by faeries?_ She crossed it out quickly.

She'd seen that one before.

It wasn't much later that the ring of the doorbell sent Jasper running from the kitchen. She frowned at the glowing 6:18 on the microwave. That was early, even for Toby.

She checked the peep-hole before she unchained the door. "You're early," she greeted him with a raised eyebrow, expecting an explanation.

"Sorry, sis. It's really important."

"Mhmm," she beckoned him inside before sliding the chain back on the door and locking the deadbolt. Hartford wasn't the safest place to call home, but it was considerably cheaper than the neighboring Connecticut towns. "Tea? Coffee?"

"No, I'm good thanks," he fell onto her battered green couch. "I ate on the way over."

_No wonder he's so early._ "So what's so top secret that you couldn't tell me over the phone?"

He leaned forward. "You have to promise to keep it quiet. I sort of stumbled into it myself when I walked by the conference room. I don't think any of the other trainees know. My boss was talking with agents from the FBI and the CIA and I couldn't _not_ listen to what was up…"

_"_ _Toby."_

"Sorry, I'm rambling," he took a breath. "They're _here_ , Sarah. Faeries and dwarves and goblins and all the stuff you told me about. They're here in Hartford. The FBI _and_ the CIA have been tracking them."

_What?_ "Bullshit. I haven't seen anything."

He rolled his eyes at her. "No shock there. You rarely leave your apartment."

"Even so," her eyes narrowed in return, "that's the kind of thing people would notice. If a goblin was just wandering down the street, that'd make the evening news." She crossed her arms. "Have _you_ seen anything like that?"

"Well, no. But it sounds like it's pretty contained to this one cult. The people worship them or something." He shrugged. "I dunno. It sounded weird to me, but the agents sounded pretty convinced they were here and that they were hanging around this cult they think kidnapped Olson's kid."

"I think you misheard, Tobes. This sounds wild even to me."

"I'd thought so too, until my boss approached me after. He knew I'd eavesdropped but instead of yelling at me, he wanted to know if I had any ideas about how to gather intel about the group. How to get somebody in there to find out what happened to the kid."

Sarah rolled her eyes, suddenly realized where the story was going. "You _didn't_. Tell me you didn't tell your boss you could get a _goblin_ for him to use?" She groaned, bringing both hands up to massage her temples when he grinned apologetically. "Why would you think that? Better yet, why _say_ that. The government is going to be all over you."

"I don't think so. They seemed fine when my boss told them."

" _Toby,"_ she ran a hand through her hair. "Please tell me you didn't tell them about me wishing you away to the Goblin King."

"No, I didn't," he replied, somewhat exasperated. "You told me not to tell anyone that. I just told him I knew how to get one." He brightened then. "You can get one, right? By asking the Goblin King?"

_Yep, he'd clearly lost it if he thought she'd just call the Goblin King._

"You've read the book, Toby. That's not how it works. He takes _wished away_ kids, he doesn't run a goblin rental service." She paused to emphasize her next part. "And I'm _not_ wishing you away or running the Labyrinth again, so don't even think about saying something stupid."

"Can you just try, Sarah? I know you can call him. See if he'll respond to something else you wish for? The worst that could happen is nothing." He pulled on his best pleading look, the one that broke down walls. "Please? This could be really big for me. Think of the missing kid."

"What if the Goblin King took the missing kid?" She countered. The kidnapping and faerie sideshow sounded suspiciously like something he'd try.

"So ask him to give him _back_ then," he replied, annoyed that she'd dodged his simple request. "C'mon, Sarah. Please?"

That look was slowly wheedling her down. She tried one last excuse. "You don't find it odd that the government says there are faeries and goblins here - _only_ here - right where we live? That seems too coincidental."

"I dunno," he shrugged. "There's a lot of crime here; maybe that's like a magnet. Another question to ask him."

She'd lost her mind, she realized, when she was seriously considering it. She sat on the couch and rubbed at a temple. "What do you want me to try and ask for? A goblin spy?"

"Basically. Just one that can go in, listen to what's being said, and report back. Maybe ask some questions." He shrugged again. "Easy stuff."

She snorted. _Easy stuff. Really_. "You owe me. Big time. Even if this doesn't work."

"Deal," he grinned. "You're the best, Sarah."

"Yeah, yeah…," she trailed off, considering what to say that might work. Toby seemed certain she could just call him and he'd come. She, for one, found that very unlikely. Their encounter had been twenty years ago. And he'd come only in response to a very specific wish that she would _not_ be repeating.

"I don't want you out here when I try. If this works, I don't want him getting ideas about taking you back. Wait in the kitchen. Leave the door open a crack if you have to watch."

" _Fine,_ " he dragged it out so Sarah knew he thought it was anything but.

She had the original line memorized. The question was how to tweak it. Could she just wish to talk to him or would it only work if she wished something away?

"Mrreoww." Jasper pawed at her leg, anxious for attention.

"Not now, Jas. I'm thinking." She took a breath to steady herself. "I wish the Goblin King was here to talk with me," she started, "right now."

Sarah waited several seconds for a thunderclap, flickering lights, or for some sort of sign that it'd worked, but noticed nothing amiss.

"Try something else!" Toby shouted at her through the crack in the door.

She hissed when something bit into her leg, and she bent down to pick up the cat who'd been trying to use her as a scratching post. "Alright, Jas," she frowned at him. "You asked for this. I wish the goblins would take this cat away. Right now."

She knew when the squirming bundle of black fur in her arms instantly vanished that something had worked. She spun around towards the window, but saw no thunder, and the lights were still humming merrily. She frowned. _That's odd. Where is he?_

Just as quickly, she heard the crash of something falling in her bedroom, and saw a flash of black fur speed past her and hide under the couch.

"If you wanted to attack my goblins again, Sarah, I'd at least thought you'd do it yourself instead of sending your _cat_."


	2. The Bargain

Sarah spun at the sound of his unmistakable lilt, perfected to simultaneously ensnare and alarm. He was easy to spot, leaning gracefully against the side of her hallway, one leather boot propped against her wall and his arms crossed as if feigning boredom. His head-to-toe armor of black shone in sharp contrast to the pale silk of his hair and her pasty plastered walls. Not turned toward her, but confronting her all the same.

She steeled herself. She was no longer a child and she would not be intimidated by some faerie child snatcher. "I wasn't trying to attack you, Goblin King."

He pushed off the wall. "Really," he drawled, sounding less than convinced. "Then I assume this was all another mistake on your part? I'd have thought you'd learned better."

Sarah held her ground as he stalked towards her, a strange lift teasing at his lips, as if he found her folly amusing. He stopped a foot from her, arching one peculiar eyebrow and twisting his wrist. "Or perhaps you have, and have reconsidered my offer?"

She scowled at the crystal he proffered. "I didn't call you for _me,"_ she emphasized clearly.

A wolfish grin graced his face. " _You_ called me, precious."

"For me!" Toby shouted, charging through the door.

" _Toby,"_ Sarah hissed, trying to get him to turn around.

But, of course, it was too late. Toby, persistent – and idiotic - as he was, had already stormed from her kitchen to present himself to the Goblin King. Sarah about had an aneurysm when Toby stuck his hand out to shake.

"Toby Williams," he offered simultaneously.

The Goblin King looked him up and down once, not lifting a glove. Then, he grinned again and pulled his eyes back to Sarah. "Have you decided it was a mistake to rescue him after all?"

"She didn't wish me away this time," Toby answered, still holding out his hand amiably. "I asked her to call you."

"Did you."

Toby finally dropped his hand when he realized his greeting would remain unanswered. "Yeah, I need a favor. Sarah told me about what happened. I know you are the King of the Goblins. I need to borrow one."

The Goblin King blinked once, then looked at Sarah again. "I know you were an abysmal sitter, Sarah, but I never thought you'd drop the boy so violently on his head."

Her eyes narrowed tighter. "Believe me, I tried to talk him out of this."

"I have a good reason," Toby jumped in, pulling out something from his pants pocket and showing it to the king. "This is Dylan Olson. He's the son of our representative. My office thinks he's been kidnapped by this cult that worships faeries and goblins. We really need to get someone in there to find out what they know."

Something dark passed across the Goblin King's face. "I do not kidnap children, _boy_ ," he sneered, and the air sparked. "I take only that which is offered to me."

"That's n-not," Toby sputtered, but Sarah pulled him back behind her before he could finish.

"He's not accusing you," she exclaimed, pushing Toby back farther towards the front door. "I told you this was a mistake," she hissed back to her brother before turning to the king again. "Just forget I called. _Leave_."

The Goblin King considered her demand for a long moment before responding with a feral grin. "No."

It was Sarah's turn to sputter, but she recovered quickly. "What do you mean, ' _no'._ "

He only grinned wider. Then, without knowing how she got there, Sarah found herself falling sideways onto her battered couch. She pushed herself up quickly, but it took her a moment to realize the Goblin King had moved closer to the door, backing Toby inches from it.

"What is it that you want?" He drawled.

_Oh, shit._ " _Toby_ —"

But her brother hadn't seemed to hear her because he quickly responded to the king. "I need to borrow a goblin. One that can go undercover for my office." He said it clearly this time.

"That can be arranged," he remarked, and Sarah could hear the grin in the roll of his tongue. "What favor will you grant me in return?"

His ask snapped Sarah to attention and she tried to leap from the couch, but found herself unable to pull herself from the fabric. " _Don't_ make a d—" But the warning was somehow snatched from her lips.

Toby was oblivious to it all. "What do you want?"

"Lodging." He hadn't hesitated, clearly set on the demand.

_What?_

Toby seemed just as confused. Sarah saw him tilt his head to the side, forehead pinched. "You want…a house?"

"The goblin will need to be monitored at all times. I can't have him wandering off in your world. I want you to grant me lodging."

Sarah instantly caught his slight of words but her muscles refused to move. Somehow, the king who wasn't supposed to have power over her had paralyzed her. On her _own_ couch. There was nothing she could do but hope that Toby heard the danger in his ask and wouldn't fall into the trap.

Toby was a cop; _surely_ , he'd heard that the king hadn't requested lodging for the goblin.

"Oh, right," Toby exclaimed, as if his ask was an obvious want. He scratched at his neck and winced. "I don't have my own place yet but Sarah has an extra bedroom she can spare."

_NO! Jesus CHRIST, Toby._ He was even more careless than she thought.

"Then we have a deal," the Goblin King almost crooned. "Sarah will host for as long as the goblin is needed."

And then Sarah watched in abject horror as her brother finally got the handshake he'd sought. There was nothing she could to stop the curl of gloved fingers or protest to the king that this apartment was _hers_ and absolutely not something Toby could barter with.

His subsequent turn of his head was victorious. "I'll return soon, _Sarah_."

And she watched him disappear, the smirk still on his lips.

"Shit."

"Sarah?"

Sarah realized immediately that she'd said it aloud. When the Goblin King vanished, apparently so too had her invisible bonds. She leapt up to meet Toby, struggling over an indescribable need to simultaneously strangle him and drive them both as far away from her apartment as possible. He couldn't stay with her if he couldn't find her. And she damn well was _not_ going to host the Goblin King.

"We've got to leave. _Now,"_ she ordered, grabbing his arm and reaching for her car keys off the hook on the wall. "He'll be back soon."

Toby yanked his arm back, looking at her as if she was insane. "What are you freaked about? He's just bringing the goblin."

"Jesus, Toby. You just offered _him_ my extra bedroom. He said nothing about keeping the goblin here."

Toby was quickly perfecting his look of confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about. He wanted the goblin monitored and I said you had a spare room."

"He may have mentioned not wanting the goblin wandering off, but he asked for lodging for himself. His exact words were 'I want you to grant _me_ lodging.'"

She let it hang in the air until she saw Toby's eyes widen. _Now he hears it._

"But, that's not what I meant!" He insisted.

"What's said is said," a cultured voice cut in, his remark an odd mix of derision and amusement.

The hairs on the back of Sarah's neck prickled. He was _already_ back? That couldn't have been more than a minute. Not even enough time to unlock and re-lock her front door if she'd tried to leave.

She took a deep breath and turned to him with the fiercest look she could muster. "Your deal is void. This is not Toby's apartment and he can't bargain it away."

He canted his head, grinning. "I don't know why you'd think that matters. The boy was not yours to bargain away either. I was offered lodging and I accepted." He waved a hand. "I don't much care who owns the property."

"If you don't care, _choose a different property_ ," she grit out.

He chuckled then. "But then Sarah dear, the boy would not have his goblin." And before Sarah could protest further, she saw him snap his fingers and a brownish something popped into existence by his side. "You still need him, I assume."

"I do _not_ ," she replied sharply.

"I was not asking you, Sarah," he said, arching a brow. "The bargain is not yours."

Sarah snapped her eyes to Toby, trying to send him some of her good sense. Trying to force him to see this was not a fair bargain and was instead an excruciatingly terrible idea. It wasn't even _comparable_ to what she'd done to him twenty years ago, as that lasted only half a day. But he only grinned apologetically at her.

_Damn it._

"Can he spy for us? Ask questions without seeming suspicious?"

"You'll need to make it very clear to him what you need him to do, but Grog should have no trouble if you do."

Despite the insanity of the situation, Sarah snorted. "Grog?"

His look to her was piercing, but he turned back to Toby without giving her a word. "I would also recommend you keep him away from your ale."

"Got it," Toby nodded, bending over and extending his hand again. "Thanks for helping, Grog."

Grog took a sideways look at Toby's hand. And then he licked it.

"Hey!" Toby pulled back his hand immediately and rubbed it on his pants.

The Goblin King flashed his grin. "I wouldn't keep your hands too close, either."

"This is a mistake, Toby," Sarah cut in. "There's no way this goblin is going to be any help to you. Just look at him," she cried, noticing the goblin had started to lick his _own_ hand now.

She was glad to see Toby finally looked hesitant about his plan. He had to see that an alcoholic, hand-licking spy wouldn't do him any good. "Just tell your boss you'll find a cop or something to send in. He'll understand."

Toby squatted down, still eying the goblin closely. "Can you listen closely and remember what people say? Ask a few questions?"

Grog nodded enthusiastically. "'Course!"

Sarah rubbed at a temple and groaned. Toby was as stubborn as her when he got an idea stuck in his head. He'd have to realize the absurdity of his plan on his own. She watched in disgust as the goblin started on his other hand, ignoring her brother again.

With Grog as the spy, she thought it possible the realization would come quickly.

"Great, then we're all set." Toby stood, gesturing at Grog while he turned to Sarah. "I'll take him to the station. My boss will want to prep him asap." He grimaced and mumbled to himself. "It might take all night."

"Can you, I don't know, make him blend in or something?" Toby asked the king. "My car isn't close and I don't want to blow the op."

The king raised an eyebrow, likely confused by Toby's lingo, but wasted no time in calling a crystal. He offered it to Toby. "When he needs to be hidden, wish it so. The humans won't notice him if you do so."

Sarah reached to pull Toby's arm back, but he was quicker. " _Toby."_

"Jeez, Sarah. Take it easy," he said, holding the crystal in both hands. "It's not a grenade. C'mon, Grog. I wish you were hidden."

Sarah stumbled, suddenly looking at a nondescript looking man with messy brown hair who she _knew_ was not a man. Said 'man' was still licking his hand. But Toby just grabbed hold of his coat sleeve and dragged the man-goblin to the front door. "Bye, Sarah!"

" _Toby_!"

But he was already out the door.

She wasn't sure how, but Sarah heard the king smile behind her.

_Shit._

She spun back again, furious. "What are you even doing asking for lodging here? Don't you have a kingdom to run?"

"I didn't ask for _your_ lodging, Sarah," he corrected. "Although I can't say I'm disappointed at the outcome." He tilted his head, grinning at her with hooded eyes. "It has been a long time."

"Not long enough," she muttered. "Go. Home."

"I think I'll stay, actually. I'm quite interested now in whatever your brother thinks my goblin can help with." He moved to her couch, sitting down and propping his boots up on the coffee table in front. "Much easier to follow if I stay Above."

"I wish you would go _home_ ," she grit out. "Right now."

"Oh, _Sarah_ ," he chuckled darkly. "You know that won't work."

A growl settled at the back of Sarah's throat. If he was intent on staying here, she'd leave. There were cheap hotels that sounded like the Ritz when compared to having the Goblin King as a roommate. "Fine. Don't break anything. I'm getting a hotel room."

He laughed again, and Sarah frowned, hand on the doorknob. There was nothing amusing about this mess.

"How forward of you," he drawled, and Sarah snapped her head around to scowl at him. He continued, clearly pleased with himself. "But you can host me wherever you'd like, Sarah. Your brother agreed to attach the lodging to _you._ "


	3. The Perils of Hosting

Not knowing how Grog would react to the changed surroundings, Toby intended on keeping his hand clenched on Grog's coat all the way to his car. He supposed the car was _really_ more the department's, but since he'd been accepted into the force after he'd turned twenty, he'd felt he'd put enough miles on it—and spilled enough coffee on the seats—that he'd christened it as his own.

Grog, for his part, didn't try to lick Toby once during the walk. That didn't stop passerby from staring at them in consternation, unfortunately. Once they'd left Sarah's building, Grog had spontaneously decided the mood was right to burst into song. The words were garbed and screeching, as if Grog was several hours past intoxicated and had forgotten he was even speaking. But, the sounds had an obvious melody. Even if at one point Toby thought he'd clucked.

"Could you keep it down?" Toby pleaded, picking up his pace. A woman in a garish plaid dress shot them a nasty look. "We're close, I promise." The mounted lights on his hood several cars away came into view and he sighed in relief. "I'll even turn on the sirens if you do." If they didn't distract him, they would at least drown out Grog's 'singing'.

Grog audibly oohed as Toby unlocked the passenger door with a click. "You has _siren_?"

"Err," Toby stumbled, caught off guard at the goblin's excitement at the term. He was confident the goblin had never seen the flashing horns before. Sarah had never mentioned encountering any sort of modern technology during her visit. Toby's brow furrowed as he urged Grog into the seat, and realized he'd never answered him. "Yeah, I do." He buckled him in before he slammed the door. Just how familiar was Grog with his world? It _would_ make the op more likely to succeed if he was, but still, it seemed odd.

Toby slid into his own seat and twisted the key into the ignition. The engine sputtered once, but started, and Toby exhaled. As he looked over to check his mirror, he realized Grog was hunched forward in his seat, seemingly examining the lint on the car floor. "Hey!" He pulled him back. "Rule number one: back against the seat. You'll hurt yourself if not. Got it?"

"But, where _siren_?" Grog asked excitedly, turning his head back to peer through the glass partition.

Toby shook his head, bemused, and thinking that Grog would require a bit more supervision that he'd hoped. He hadn't quite known what to expect from a goblin—Sarah had mentioned only that they formed a pretty useless army—but given his enthusiasm, Grog might have been better disguised as a child. "It's on the roof. Let me get on the highway first." He eyed him sideways. "But _only_ if you sit still." Grog just nodded fiercely.

As they pulled out of the lot, Toby asked his nagging question. "How much do you know about this world? Does the Goblin King bring you here a lot?"

"Nah. Not lotta wish aways since you. King come a lot, though. Tells us lots."

That could explain it, Toby concluded, nodding. But it did raise another question. He paused as the stoplight at the intersection turned red and turned back to Grog. "If kids haven't been wished away, why does he come here so often?"

Grog opened his mouth, but then turned a shade greyer and shook his head vigorously. Without saying a word, he leaned back into his seat, suddenly intent on silence.

Toby frowned, but the light changed, and he turned his focus back to the road. Sarah had warned him that the Goblin King was shifty and possibly involved in this kidnapping. The goblin's sudden change of demeanor made him wonder if she was right. He hesitated, but then decided it couldn't hurt to ask. "Grog, did the Goblin King bring back a baby recently? A boy?"

"Don' think so," Grog mumbled, still muted. He didn't offer more.

Toby frowned again, now even more suspicious of the king. That hadn't exactly been a ' _no'_. He groaned as he recalled just where said king was.

Sarah was going to kill him for offering the king her spare room.

* * *

Sarah, as it turned out, while not planning on killing her brother, was considering just how she was going to pay him back for offering up her apartment. To the _Goblin King_. She scowled as said king crisscrossed his boots again on her coffee table, reading one of the magazines strewn atop.

"Could you not scuff up my table?" She asked irritably. He was clearly not going anywhere anytime soon. And following his pronouncement about tying the lodging to _her_ , it appeared neither was she. "If you plan on staying in my apartment, you follow my rules. Got it?"

He snorted, seeming genuinely amused by her demand. "Really," he drawled, setting down his magazine and settling back against the cushions. "What rules would those be? Am I to have thirteen hours to solve your apartment? Because from what I've seen, precious thing, that's not much of a challenge."

"Don't call me that," she snapped. And after a second, "rule number one: my name is Sarah. Not dear or precious thing or whatever other pet names you think up. _Sarah._ "

He smiled wolfishly at her. "As you wish, _Sarah._ "

A shiver ran through her and she instantly wondered if she'd made a mistake. He'd called her Sarah several times before, but now, the word was more a caress than a name. She remembered he had a way with words, but his tone was…unsettling. Reminiscent of an offer twenty years ago that she couldn't quite forget. He had immediately propositioned her again when he'd arrived, leading her to believe his ridiculous offer stood. She scowled.

"Rule number two: keep to yourself. Toby offered you my _lodging_ , so that's what you get: a room. I'm not here to entertain you."

He considered her quietly for a moment, then stood, the faintest of frowns at his lips. His path to her was measured, as if he'd spotted prey that he didn't dare startle, and Sarah stilled when he stopped directly in front of her. Not quite touching, but the distracting heat of his body enveloped hers without contact. Before she could process a response to his nearness, a gloved hand had tilted up her chin so that her face was inches from his own, and Sarah's breath caught suddenly at the thought that he intended to kiss her. But for some seconds, he only stared, thin lips slightly parted, and Sarah realized he was testing her; trying to see if she'd turn her face or flee. Perhaps to see if she meant her words about him keeping to himself. She clenched her teeth. It was a move he'd tried before, all those years ago in his tunnels. Just as then, her innate stubbornness refused to give him the satisfaction of running away. She tilted up her chin minutely and tried to even her breathing. The frown morphed back into his familiar grin, but she held steady; gaze focused, despite an inner something telling her she was playing with fire to allow him so close.

He dropped his hand but kept his body tight to hers. "I nevertheless find myself entertained," he said lowly. "But your desires are noted."

The temperature fell as he stepped back, and it was only when she saw him moving towards her hallway that she processed his response to her demand. In no way had he agreed to leave her alone. Her pulse ticked up again.

"The lodging?" He asked, leaning back again against one side of the wall.

The request brought Sarah's focus back to the bargain. _Right. Second bedroom_. "Last door on the right." She watched him push off, then move down the hallway until he reached the doorway she'd indicated. He did not enter.

"Given the boy's questionable sense, I should have expected he'd lack a basic understanding of the requirements of a _bedroom_."

Despite his repeated slight of her brother, Sarah couldn't help but grin at his obvious displeasure as she came up behind him. She wasn't particularly thrilled with Toby at the moment, either. "It's really more of an office, but Toby has spent the night here." There _was_ a bed, as Toby offered, but Sarah realized his never seeing a sleeper sofa could work in her favor. She was in no hurry to correct his misconception. Even though he seemed intent on staying with her, she had a hard time believing the otherworldly Goblin King would relegate himself to sleeping on a sofa.

"Very well," he answered and by words alone, one would think he'd declined the space.

She knew better. The easy roll of his tongue brought Sarah back to his victorious sealing of the bargain, and she saw her ruse had backfired. But she didn't have time to stop him before he'd turned, moving with new swagger as he crossed the hall into her own bedroom. She raced after him when she realized his intent, but was too late to stop the tell-tale sound of springs jostling.

_Oh, fuck._

He looked every bit at home nestled against her mass of coral pillows, stretched out across her queen-sized sleigh bed and looking across the room at her with hooded eyes. For an instant, she was too distracted by the sight of anyone else in her bed to process that it was _the Goblin King_ who was looking at her as if expecting her to curl up beside him. The sly curve of his lips broke the spell.

"My bedroom was not part of the bargain," she said crisply.

"The boy offered me a spare _bedroom_ , Sarah; not an office." His grin grew when she just pursed her lips at him. "Fortunately for him—and you, I suppose—I won't deem the bargain broken by our shared accommodations. It would be unfortunate to lose him again."

Sarah's stomach dropped as the blood rushed from her head, now understanding the consequences of her brother's broken promise. She had read as much before, in research for her books, but hardly knew if it was true. As angry as she was with Toby, she was not prepared to lose him over her temporary discomfort. Not again. She would ensure she kept the terms he'd agreed to. She could tolerate the dark faerie king for his sake. She'd done it before.

"The bargain stands," she sighed, resigned to hosting duties. She rubbed at her eyes. "It's a sleeper sofa. You just need to pull it out."

"Beg pardon?" He said, slowly raising one peculiar brow. Pointed canines flashed.

"The _bed_ ," she clarified quickly when she realized how he'd understood her order. She made a mental note to speak carefully around him, lest he twist her words against her. She didn't quite know what he wanted with her, but she'd be damned if she mistakenly offered him the very something encouraging his ask for lodging. "The sofa folds out into a bed." She sighed again and waved a hand at his blank stare. "Let me set it up."

He must have been curious, because he followed her into the second bedroom. Sarah pulled off one of the brown tartan cushions and set it alongside the armrest. The second quickly followed. She looked back to see the Goblin King watching the process with some interest, but he didn't move from his place near the doorway. He was obviously not going to assist. She exhaled deeply, then stepped in front of the couch before leaning down to pull up on the small metal handle. The sudden strained creaking of hinges was jarring, and she cringed when the bed stuck. It had been awhile since anyone had slept in the bed; she prayed it was just rusty and wasn't broken. She repositioned her weight and tried again, groaning.

"Do you require assistance?"

His offer startled her, and the slight lift of the bed disappeared back into the couch. "What?"

"With that contraption you claim is a bed." He twisted his wrist to form a crystal simultaneously, holding it out to her. "I can make things far less taxing for you."

She looked at the crystal warily, knowing well now that all of his offers were accompanied by a catch; it was the whole reason she was in this mess. "You could just help," she suggested instead.

"Don't tell me you're afraid to accept it?" The curve of lips became Cheshire.

No, not afraid. _Cautious._ After all she'd seen, immediately taking him up on another offer would be foolish. But, she wasn't making much progress on unfurling the bed on her own and accepting the known alternatives seemed far worse than not asking. She could probably fall asleep on the couch, but that still meant allowing the Goblin King free reign of her room and bed. "What's the catch?"

He raised an eyebrow at her suspicion, but didn't pull back the crystal. "Who said there was a catch?"

"With you, there's always a catch," she responded dryly. Her dreams for Toby, the goblin for her lodging…

_Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave._

He laughed softly, startling Sarah again, and stepped over to her. Her failure to refuse outright indicated she was willing to bargain. "Then I shall deign to live up to your expectations." He tilted his head, rolling the crystal across his hands. "The boy's request intrigues me. There are very few of my kind that can cross the veil. If the beings of the Underground have somehow slipped into your side without my knowledge, I would like to be involved in uncovering how and why they did so."

It seemed a reasonable request; just not something she could trade. "That's not up to me, Goblin King. It's Toby's investigation."

"Perhaps. But the boy only requested my assistance when you told him of me, and he only was able to do so upon your wishing for me. You are intricately involved in the bargain and he, as the mortals charmingly put it, 'owes you one'. I'm certain you can persuade him of my usefulness to his pursuit."

"Why don't you just ask him yourself?" He was likely right that Toby would agree if she asked, but she hadn't intended on wasting any guilt Toby was feeling on a favor for the harbinger of that same guilt.

"I believe your request far more likely to be successful."

She looked back at the folded bed once and sighed. She'd much rather have him on the case than in her bed. "Fine, I'll ask him. But I can't guarantee he or his office will agree to it. They asked him for a goblin, not the Goblin King."

"That is acceptable to me," he nodded, offering the crystal again. Still, she hesitated before reaching out to take the crystal.

"What, _precisely_ , does this crystal do?"

"Really, Sarah," he drawled. "I've already said it will assist you with that contraption you claim is a bed. The enchantment will do you no harm."

That wasn't nearly precise enough. "It will give me the strength to open the bed?" She asked pointedly.

"Precisely."

Sarah refrained from knocking the smirk from his face and instead looked back at the crystal. It was almost mocking her now, shimmering with a strange hum that sounded vaguely like laughter. She settled the growl in her throat and took it in both hands.

The crystal instantly popped at her touch, shattering into a mist of glitter that evaporated into the air. Or did it seep into her skin? Sarah shook her hands, trying to work out the strange tingle that settled in her palms. Besides that, she didn't particularly _feel_ stronger. She frowned at him once, then moved back to pull out the bed.

Upon one swift yank, the bed unfurled itself and locked into position with only a few sharp clicks. Even with his claim, she was surprised at how effortless it had been compared to before. He hadn't lied about that. Sarah exhaled in relief and quickly grabbed the extra comforter and a pillow from the room's closet. She tossed them on the bed neatly. "There you go: a spare bedroom. Bathroom is the door just outside," she offered, pointing to the door outside at the end of the hallway. "Bargain kept."

"And your bargain?" He asked as she moved to exit the room.

"Tomorrow, Goblin King," she sighed. "I'm sure Toby will be back bright and early with updates." Or better yet, a change of heart on his plan. And without another word, she crossed the hall to her own room and quickly shut the door behind her.


	4. Entering the Investigation

All things considered, Toby thought most of the meeting at the station had gone better than expected. Apart from that last minute.

After Grog's sudden personality shift, he'd heeded Toby's warnings to keep still. The singing was forgotten. Hands were left un-licked. True to his word, Toby had clicked on the sirens for the last few minutes of the drive to the station, and chuckled when Grog's eyes lit up as he mimicked the whirring. It was helpful to know it didn't take much to snap Grog back to his normal enthusiasm. An overly excited spy seemed more likely to help than one afflicted with a depression.

It was late when they pulled into the station. Toby had radioed that they were on their way during the drive—another gadget which added to Grog's delight—and Lieutenant Murdock was waiting for them outside. He eyed Toby and man-goblin Grog speculatively after they'd parked.

"Danon said you were bringing a goblin, Williams."

Toby assumed his boss, Chief Danon, had filled Murdock in on the plan. "Yes, sir," Toby nodded, pulling Grog again by the coat sleeve up the station steps. "This is him. I can show you inside. Is the chief here?"

Lieutenant Murdock shook his head. "No, he was called away last minute. He left me in charge." Murdock, having recently seen his fair share of unusual characters in his city, took one last look at the unknown man, bouncing on his feet at Williams' side, but beckoned in the pair without another word. He had been told that only Williams had access to a goblin, so there wasn't much to do except hear him out.

"C'mon, Grog. Stay close and quiet," Toby whispered. His career at the department was on the line if this backfired; he couldn't afford to have Grog lick his coworkers, burst their eardrums, or worse. Based on his experience with the siren, Grog seemed to listen to him when he promised a reward. It was worth a shot to try it again. Offering food seemed like the safest bet, so he dangled the carrot. "If you stay calm and quiet through this meeting, I'll pick you up McDonald's afterwards." If Grog knew something as obscure as a siren, Toby figured he had heard of the prolific burger chain. At the promise, Grog released something vaguely like a squeal, and Toby grinned. Goblins weren't nearly as complicated as he'd thought.

Most of the station's lights were off, but as they walked to the back, Toby could see that the conference room from earlier was fully lit. Several inquisitive heads turned when they entered. Their crisp black suits stood out from Toby's police uniform, leading him to believe the federal authorities weren't deterred by meeting at this late hour. The tall stacks of paper and photographs strewn across the table also suggested they'd been there for some time.

"Williams, let me introduce you to Special Agents Collier and Steele. They're our POCs at the Bureau and Agency." Murdock nodded pointedly at each man at the end of the long table as he named them, but neither so much as twitched a smile. "They'll be coordinating the brunt of the operation."

Toby nodded his own head briefly at each man, finally letting go of Grog's coat sleeve when they'd made it inside. Murdock shut the door behind them.

"Go ahead, Williams."

At the lieutenant's order, Toby swung his pack around to grab the crystal he'd stuffed inside. It was still shimmering with what seemed like glitter confetti; the inside similar to the little airport snow globes he'd collected as a kid, but this shell strangely warm to the touch. As before, he held it in both hands as he wished. The Goblin King hadn't _exactly_ told him how to put Grog back to normal; hopefully, a clear command was enough.

"I wish Grog looked like a goblin again."

Murdock sputtered briefly as the man morphed and shrunk into a brownish-grey… _something_ , drowning in his now oversized coat. After he caught himself, the creature shrugged off his jacket and inched closer to Williams, wrapping an arm around one of his legs. Murdock had seen some agency photos, but they didn't do the real thing justice. The creature's face reminded him of worn leather, the seams held together by beady brown eyes, a protruding snout, and short horns which curved tight towards a small tuft of black hair. A goblin, he figured, based on what Williams had promised, but he had not expected its sudden and almost inexplicable transformation. Williams had some questions to answer. He took a quick look at Collier and Steele; they too seemed a bit caught off-guard, trading odd glances, but remained seated. It was unclear if they knew what had occurred. Murdock frowned, but decided to hold his questions for later.

"Impressive trick, Mr. Williams," one of the agents finally offered, pushing back his chair to stand and walk around towards him. "We appreciate your prompt cooperation in this matter. We'll take it from here." He stretched out a hand towards Grog, but Grog didn't take it.

Instead, Toby felt Grog clench his leg tighter and looked down to see him staring up at him with concern and a small shake of his head. Toby frowned, but remembered the Goblin King had been pretty clear about keeping an eye on his goblin; Grog couldn't just be passed off to some Fed he'd never met.

"Sorry, sir, but I'm afraid he has to stick with me. It's part of my deal on borrowing him."

The agent finally looked surprised. "Borrowing him? From whom?"

"Well," Toby glanced down again, but Grog didn't give him any signal about how to handle that question. Sarah had been adamant about him not mentioning the Goblin King, however. That seemed safest given what he knew about the situation. "I don't really know him; it's my sister who contacted him for help. I just picked the goblin up."

"He belongs to this man?"

Toby had seen enough to know the Goblin King wasn't a man, per se, but something otherworldly and magical who only looked vaguely human. Still, that was bound to bring up questions that he couldn't answer, so he just nodded.

The agent glanced briefly at his counterpart still at the table. Toby didn't see any obvious gesture from the seated man, but the agent in front of him seemed to have gotten a signal because he turned back and nodded sharply. "Very well, Mr. Williams. Take a seat. I think you may be of further assistance, but this is strictly confidential."

"Of course, sir." Toby bent down to grab Grog and lifted him into one of the wheeled office chairs before finding his own. Murdock followed, all the while keeping focus on Grog out of the corner of his eye. Neither agent spoke for several seconds, also watching Grog with interest, so Toby took the lead. "This is Grog. I've already filled him in on what he needs to do while undercover. He's offered to listen closely and ask questions, as needed. You'll just need to let him know who to pay attention to, and what sort of things to listen for."

The yet-to-speak agent slid a small manila folder down the table. Toby caught it just before it skidded off the edge, and opened it to find a series of photos. Most were of poor quality, but Toby recognized goblins in a few, and several other otherworldly creatures in the others. He assumed them to be the dwarves and faeries he'd overheard agents mention earlier. The side view of a man face—the one he'd seen several times on the news—was near the bottom of the packet.

"Recognize any of them?"

"Not personally, no. But there are goblins in a few."

"Then this isn't the man you borrowed the goblin from?"

"Definitely not," Toby shook his head. Although most of his face was obscured, the man in the photo had considerably darker coloring that the Goblin King. He passed the photo to Grog, but he too shook his head, albeit more vigorously. "Why do you think he's the one who took Representative Olson's son?"

The agent who slid the file considered Toby for a second, but then searched through a pile to his left and pulled out a clear evidence bag. He sent it down the table in similar fashion. "One of my agents found this near one of their gatherings after they left. They must not have realized they dropped it. Representative Olson has confirmed his son was wearing it the night he went missing."

Toby took a good look at the small red knitted hat with the initials D.O. embroidered in white sealed inside. "Was forensics able to find anything?" It was newer science, but if the kidnapper had left fingerprints at the scene, maybe a stray hair or two, they may be able to narrow down the suspects.

"The lab was unable to process the sample we found."

Toby looked up quickly. He hadn't done much work with the forensics team, but he'd never heard that they were unable to process a sample. Obtained inconclusive findings—sure, but they'd always had some sort of result. The agent didn't seem inclined to offer more explanation on that point, however. Toby exhaled, and slid the bag back towards the agents.

"I see why you need to get someone in there. How long do we have to prep before their next meeting?"

"We are working on figuring that out. We'll let you know when we hear, but it will likely be a last-minute call." The agent checked his watch and frowned. "We have a few other leads to look into. Can you meet us back here tomorrow morning? Ten?"

"Yes, sir." Toby recognized the dismissal, and stood, catching Grog's chair as it swiveled. Grog jumped off the chair without orders when Toby jutted his head at the door. Toby grinned when he grabbed onto his leg again.

They had almost made it out of the conference room when one of the agents made one last request.

"And make sure to bring your sister, Mr. Williams. I've got a few questions for her, too."

Toby stopped in his tracks, cringing. Sarah was definitely going to kill him.

* * *

Sarah made sure to lock her door as soon as she'd closed it, exhaling deeply. She wasn't confident it would keep the king out, given his inexplicable ability to paralyze her on her couch, but it seemed better than doing nothing.

He'd at least know she meant to keep him away.

Not that he seemed to care about her second demand. It had taken him all of two seconds to press up against her, just daring her to flee. She wasn't even sure that was what he'd wanted; he'd seemed exceedingly pleased when she'd stayed steady. She growled and made her way over to her closet. She'd likely never figure him out. With any luck, Toby would call off this farce in the morning, and she'd never have to see him again.

She changed into a long grey shirt bearing the emblem of her alma mater and soft cotton shorts, and after carefully checking that he wasn't in the hall or bathroom, washed up. The second bedroom door was shut; presumably, the king had settled in for the night. She too was shot, and dragged herself into bed. The faint scent of something familiarly masculine whisked her quickly off to sleep.

Bliss was temporary.

*BRINNNNG* *BRINNNNG*

Sarah snapped awake at the ringing, heart pounding from the abrupt wake-up call. It only took her a second to realize it wasn't the typical late-night fire alarm, but her home phone. She checked her nightstand clock: 12:30. _Toby._ He was the only person who would bother her at this hour.

*BRINNNNG*

Sarah threw back her comforter and rushed out her door to grab the phone in the hallway before it hit the final ring.

"Hello? Toby?"

"Sorry to wake you, Sarah. It couldn't wait."

"It's fine," she audibly sighed. "Just please tell me you're dropping your plan."

"Err."

She knew that pause too well, and leaned her forehead against the wall in frustration. "What did you do now, Toby?"

"Can we come back over? We're done here for the night."

" _We_?"

"Grog and I," Toby explained, and Sarah could have sworn she heard the goblin yell a 'hi, lady' in the background.

She frowned. Toby had thought they'd be needed at the station all night. With what she'd seen earlier, there was no way the goblin had transformed into a clandestine expert in the span of several hours. Something was definitely up.

"Knock three times when you get here." She didn't wait for his reply before she slammed the phone back into the holster as if it had offended her. The low chuckle behind her came without warning.

"The boy already needs assistance, I assume? How terribly predictable."

She turned, ready to tell him she'd had _enough_ of him insulting Toby, but the words died in her throat, felled by dark silk and bare skin.

He was leaning casually against his door frame, dressed only in black silken pants which hung low at his waist. The pants were nowhere near as tight as his normal attire, but were somehow all the more sinful, aided by a pale expanse of fine lines and lean muscle. His head tilted in amusement when after a long moment she only stared. She processed it all without thinking. She should have expected it, but he was unthinkable. Terrible. _Beautiful._ Her pulse skipped. As if he'd heard it, he slowly crossed his arms and the move caused his sickle-shaped pendant to glint like his eyes; a look that just dared her to turn away and pretend he wasn't there.

The knowing smirk on his face telling her he knew that she couldn't.

She would remember later that she _did_ try. Her failure was only because he'd surprised her. He was distractingly beautiful—even she could admit it—but she convinced herself a glance at any half-naked male in her hallway under those circumstances surely would have caused the same response.

Surely.

Sarah, with some monumental effort, eventually forced herself to look only at his face. The familiar grin was an easier focus point than the rest of him, at the moment. "I don't know what he needs," she responded, glad the retort was steadier than her pulse. "They're coming over."

"Now?" A twinge of familiar displeasure accompanied the question, and his arms dropped.

"Yes, _now_ ," she sighed, recalling his brother's claim that it couldn't wait. The implications distracted her momentarily her from the Goblin King's chest. "It sounded important." She rubbed at her temples, feeling the headache from earlier forming again. She needed tea. Strong tea.

Steady footsteps followed her to the kitchen, but no closer. Sarah thumbed through her tea chest until she found the chamomile, and filled one of the mugs near the sink with water. "Do you want tea? Chamomile?" She asked tiredly, knowing he was still staring at her from the doorway. She had already resigned herself to playing hostess.

"Is that what you're concocting?"

"Yes," she said, almost snorting at his medieval term. She had a nagging feeling she would be 'concocting' a great deal of herbal tea to survive Toby's bargain. She stuck her mug into the microwave and hit the two.

"Chamomile, then. Plain."

She knew better than to expect even a syllable of gratitude. His mug followed hers into the microwave minutes later. When it beeped, she grabbed both steaming mugs and brought them to the doorway, exhaling. "Here," she offered with a little more force than she intended, handing him his mug and quickly moving past him with clenched teeth. Of course he hadn't yet bothered to put on a shirt.

"Something the matter, Sarah?"

She knew he'd noticed her haste; his question dripped with amusement instead of his minutes-ago displeasure with Toby's interruption.

Three sharp knocks saved her from having to respond, and she unchained the door to scowl at Toby. He quickly thrust forward a carton of fries as a peace offering, and she sighed. _Damn it._ She took them, rolling her eyes, and waved Toby inside. She'd been rightly concerned about his visit if he was trying to preemptively apologize with fried food. He knew her weaknesses.

The Goblin King had returned to his spot on her couch and was carefully sipping his tea. In the seconds it had taken her to open the door, he had changed into tight grey breeches and a loose white poet's shirt. He eyed Sarah's fries with obvious interest.

Sarah ignored him.

She turned back to Toby and Grog. The goblin had changed back from his man-goblin form and was happily munching on his own carton of fries, almost glued to Toby's leg. Her brother was clearly bribing him with snacks, as well. "What do you need, Toby?"

Toby winced. "I need another favor. I need you to come with me to the station tomorrow."

"What for?"

"I..ugh..may have mentioned that you helped me get the goblin."

" _Toby._ If you weren't my brother, so help me, I would…"

"They just want to ask you a few questions!" He cut in quickly, hoping to clarify what happened. "I think they just want some sort of explanation about where Grog came from. I sort of told them he didn't belong to the guy they're investigating."

"How fortuitous."

Sarah froze when the Goblin King's low drawl interrupted the argument. "What?" She shrieked at him, but his pointed look reminded her of his other bargain: he wanted to be involved with the investigation. Did he actually expect her to bring him along? Did he not care that they were investigating _her_? "You can't possibly believe it's a good idea for me to show up at a police station. You realize they probably suspect I have something to do with the kidnapping?"

"You do have a history of misplacing children," he replied easily, and Sarah sputtered. He didn't even flinch. He took a casual sip of his tea then set it aside, leaning back and propping his boots—again—on her victimized coffee table. "Your less than desirable childcare skills aside, the boy indicated they had a male suspect, and only sought you to speak of my goblin. Your questioning should be brief."

The plan was sounding worse by the minute. "You want me to tell them the goblin is _yours_?"

"Really, Sarah," his stare was withering. "That would hardly dissuade their questions." Before Sarah could follow-up on what he was thinking, his focus moved towards the door. Lower, with a noticeable scowl, but it cleared quickly when he looked upwards. "You simply told them Sarah procured the goblin?"

"Yeah," Toby nodded. "And that he belonged to a guy she knew."

The Goblin King said nothing when Toby finished. Sarah assumed that second detail complicated whatever idea the king had planned to suggest. Perhaps, he was reconsidering the meeting? "This is a bad idea, Goblin King. There's no way for me to explain how I got Grog without them suspecting me of _something_. Not if this cult they're tracking has goblins."

"No, likely not given what they've been told," he agreed, but the familiar drawl knotted Sarah's stomach. "But you will not need to explain it."

"I..won't?"

"No. I can ensure that aspect of their inquiry is forgotten." He looked at her pointedly again, calling a crystal. With another twist, the crystal shifted. "For it to take, however, I will need to be there. It will not work on one I've never seen."

The knots twisted again. Sarah knew exactly what he was suggesting. She wasn't at all comfortable with tampering with the investigation, but she knew firsthand his spell would cause one to forget whatever it was they were seeking. And she needed the cops to forget she was involved. Although Toby trusted that the government wasn't concerned by their knowledge of magical creatures, she wasn't nearly as naive.

_Damn_ _it_.

The Goblin King was openly grinning now, as if he'd read several pages ahead in the story and was spoiling the ending. He knew she lacked alternatives.

She breathed out slowly and turned to Toby to fulfill her bargain, but he was looking between her and the Goblin King curiously, understandably confused by the Goblin King's proposition—she had left out the bit about enchanted fruit and the masquerade in her retelling of her run. It'd seemed too...personal. And certainly irrelevant to the heart of the story. In any case, now was not the time to fill him in on those details.

"I'll go, Toby. But the Goblin King is coming with me."

Toby knew better than to argue.

* * *


	5. Hidden Talents

After the plan was decided, Toby—and Grog, surprisingly—didn't stay long. Sarah had assumed she'd be hosting the goblin on her living room couch given Toby's roommates, but Grog had wailed when Toby attempted to leave her apartment without him, and after getting Grog to promise he'd behave as a man-goblin, Toby had caved. He and his roommates would just have to deal with his "cousin Greg" stretching out his sleeping bag and whatever obnoxious habits bled through his disguise. Served him right for getting her into this mess.

With Toby and Grog gone, and the Goblin King sequestered in her office, Sarah slipped back into bed. But this time, worries and wishes kept sleep from falling.

The government wanted to talk to her. Interrogate her. Probably accuse her of snatching away a baby boy. And the Goblin King had a plan to save her.

The irony was almost too much.

Sarah buried her head under the pillow, desperate to drown out all thoughts of stolen boys and the king who stole them. It was a laughable effort. She'd known after he'd surprised her in the hallway that she'd entered dangerous territory. She'd had a fascination with him when she was younger, but despite that pull, she'd been able to focus on his faults and craft a response to dismiss it. He was cruel. He was the villain. It was all a game to distract her from Toby. Yet there he was, armed only with silken pants and a knowing smirk, and her mettle had fractured. He hadn't even suggested anything, but if he had…

She wasn't sure she knew the right words to dispel him. Or that she could even _say_ them if she did. Not when dismissing him wasn't the key to saving Toby.

She groaned into the sheets. Damn her for even considering this plan. Damn Toby and the Goblin King, too. She needed sleep if this scheme was to work. She'd undoubtedly raise suspicions if she arrived at the station bearing bloodshot eyes and a persistent yawn. Any sign of a sleepless night would be a dead give away that she was concerned about their questioning. But, lying in bed just allowed those thoughts to run rampant and while the chamomile had calmed her headache, it was no match for Toby's carelessness.

A book. She needed a book. It was a tried and true method to soothe racing thoughts into submission. She could focus on the prose instead of what she might possibly say to the government to stall for time and allow the Goblin King to work his magic. She could focus on imaginary worlds instead of the not-so-imaginary king sleeping across the hall. She could focus on extricating herself from this fantastical kidnapping instead of what might have happened if she'd chosen not to extricate herself from an offer even more fantastical some twenty years ago; something she had not, until recently, even contemplated. This whole disaster was obviously chipping away at her good sense.

She groaned again. The problem was, of course, that the not-so-imaginary king had claimed her office and thus, her several large bookshelves. He had somehow seamlessly inserted himself into her apartment, Toby's investigation, her own interrogation, and between her and her favorite escape with barely more than a twist of a wrist and a few clever words. Despite her frustration, she still saw his maneuvering as impressive. She just didn't know _why_ he made the effort in the first place. Surely, there were an infinite number of more important things he should be focused on; like answering wishes and managing mazes. At least attempting to manage his goblins. Why bother with her?

She sighed, realizing she again was focused solely on the Goblin King instead of sleep. She threw back the coverlet, deciding she'd read a damn cookbook if she had to.

The second bedroom door was slightly ajar as Sarah padded down the hall briskly, making sure to keep her footsteps soft to avoid waking him. She couldn't handle seeing him again so soon; not if she was to sleep. Jasper had emerged from whatever hiding spot he'd found upon being wished away and was crunching on what was left of his dinner in the kitchen. He skittered away quickly when Sarah leaned down to pet him, obviously agitated from being thrown across worlds.

Sarah understood completely.

She grabbed the largest cookbook off the shelf: a food stained but trusted tome that Karen had sworn by and given her many years prior. The book had done little to improve her cooking, but it seemed likely to put her to sleep. As she turned back to the door, she spotted the little red book she'd tossed onto her kitchen table earlier. She placed it on top of the cookbook, frowning. She obviously couldn't read _that_ , but there was no way she could leave it out in the open for the Goblin King to stumble across. She could imagine the superior look he'd give her when he realized she'd kept it all these years, despite the trouble it'd wrought. She had enough trouble with him already. No, she absolutely could _not_ let him know of its unexplainable importance to her.

Sarah returned the little red book to the depths of her closet and climbed back into bed, cookbook in hand. Measurements and mixing, basting and broiling, cassoulet and coq au vin. Elaborate meals that called for ingredients she couldn't afford and dinner partners she had recently lacked. Still, as she made her way past eclairs, thoughts of whisking eggs and airy pastry replaced those of an enigmatic king. The book slipped from her hands, thudding softly into the bed, and surrounded only by the sound of deep, even breathing.

* * *

She'd set her alarm for eight, but the creak of hinges woke her instead.

Light was barely flickering in through her window and the room was more shadows than defined shapes. It looked well before eight, and a glance at her clock confirmed it. She groaned at the glowing six thirty and turned away from the light, intent on stuffing her head under the pillow to get at least another hour of sleep, but before she could, she spotted an immaculate figure leaning against her open door, staring at her with a tilted grin. As she'd feared, the locks were useless.

"What do you want, Goblin King?" She asked tiredly, closing her eyes again. "It's early."

"For you, perhaps," he chuckled softly, but Sarah heard the tail end of it clearly as his voice moved closer. "I am certain you remember time moves differently Underground. I am accustomed to rising at this hour."

It figured he'd be a morning person. It was too much to hope that he'd run out of traits that would drive her crazy. She could think of no reason, however, that his routine required him to intrude on her rest. She groaned again, not bothering to look at him lest it encourage him to continue his early morning harassment. "I've already told you I'm not here to entertain you. We don't need to be there until ten. Find something to do to pass the time."

"You seem to be forgetting, _Sarah_ ," he drawled near her ear, and her eyes snapped open; the kiss of his breath hot against skin. "The bargain also entailed that you'd _host_ for as long as the goblin is needed."

Sarah rolled away and sat up, suddenly breathing hard, and tried to wrench her thoughts away from fatigue. Just _what_ was he expecting her to do at this hour? Toby hadn't promised she'd provide anything but the room. At this ungodly hour, she didn't have the patience for polite words. "What the hell are you talking about?" She demanded, pressing her hands in the bed to steady herself. "I'm hosting; you have a room."

"Come now, Sarah. Even I don't believe you think tea alone serves as acceptable fare for a guest." He held up a thick battered book and raised an eyebrow.

Understanding dawned quickly and she sighed, rubbing at her eyes. "You want breakfast." Of course he expected hosting to require all the niceties of a quaint bed and breakfast. But then again, otherworldly or not, he was a king. He'd likely never had to prepare his own meals and wouldn't have assumed she'd provide anything less. She repeated a silent mantra that she would _not. lose. Toby._ and pulled herself off the far end of the bed. Chef Sarah it was, then. "Fine. Give me ten minutes to shower and dress. But you're going to be disappointed."

"There are few things you could do to disappoint me that you have not already done, Sarah," he said lowly, the words hinting at offers rebuked.

Sarah's hand clenched around the blouse she'd reached for, but she was able to resist turning. He was disappointed. With her. As if he honestly thought she should have known better than to scorn his offer? Her accepting would have been nonsensical; entrancing faerie king or not, she'd been _fifteen_. He knew she had to have Toby back. But that was a conversation for a time when she wasn't panicked about the government hiding her away because of what she knew. It would only rile her up more.

_Focus on the food, not the past._

"The cookbook was a gift from my stepmother," Sarah offered finally, turning back with a deep green blouse and dark slacks tossed over an arm. "Her attempt at turning me into a suitable housewife. As you've likely realized: that attempt failed. You'll have to make do with scrambled eggs and toast." She didn't know why she was bothering to explain her recent history to him, but she felt obligated to warn him he wouldn't be receiving fresh croissants or similar patisseries.

She was almost out the door when she heard his reply. "Do you want to be a housewife?"

"No," she said sharply. "I never did." His expression only intensified at her words, so she sighed and jutted her head down the hall towards the kitchen. "Just wait in the kitchen. I won't take long."

As tempting as it was to avoid the king, Sarah abided by her promise to shower quickly. She pinned her shoulder length hair up with an elegant clip instead of taking the time to blow-dry it, and pushed open the kitchen door to find the Goblin King hovering over her stove.

"What are you doing?"

"Making a suitable breakfast," he said dryly, not turning. "Since you made it clear you lacked this particular skill."

She saw him flip a piece of toast in the pan, and her mouth dropped. She had to be dreaming. Or, her stress and addled hormones had brought her around the bend. There was no way _the Goblin King_ was preparing french toast in her kitchen. Nonchalantly. Like it was the obvious thing to do in response to her warning. She instinctively pinched herself and grimaced when it stung. The image of the king didn't falter. She'd lost her mind, then. The enticing smells of cinnamon and vanilla had to be the byproduct of insanity. Surely, she was imagining the sizzle of battered toast? But, as she watched him tip the pan onto a plate already stacked with several pieces and set the platter on the kitchen table, she couldn't help but think that the more logical response was that she'd been wrong to presume he'd never prepared a meal. The Goblin King cooked. And from what she could tell so far, he was no amateur. She inhaled deeply, losing herself in warm, buttery spice. It smelled absolutely incredible. Maddening king or not, there were few things better than a man preparing a hot breakfast.

He'd also somehow already learned the layout of her kitchen. The ceramic pan he'd been using had been sitting in her oven alongside most of her cookware, too large for her cabinets. Without a false move, she watched as he pulled cutlery and a smaller plate out from those cabinets, and deposited them alongside the platter. He slid into one of the chairs without even looking at her, stabbed a piece of toast off the platter, and cut into it neatly. Sarah could only gape.

"You were not mincing words when you claimed not to be a housewife," he said after swallowing, flicking his eyes up. A corner of his mouth raised when she remained frozen in the doorway. "Your stock of edible food is wanting."

She bristled, and whatever crack in her defenses his unexpected breakfast brought was replaced with steel. She was well-aware that her fridge wasn't stocked for a king. Or even two average people. She'd likely have to make a trip to the store today. But that, of course, depended on whether the Goblin King's spell actually caused the government to forget about her involvement and they left her in peace. She finally found words when his focus returned to his toast. "I wasn't exactly expecting a guest."

"That was abundantly clear." When she just crossed her arms, he raised an eyebrow to match his grin. "Do you intend to eat? Or have you somehow gotten your fill just by staring?"

"I… _what_?" He was enjoying her shock far too much, she decided, when he only gestured to the platter with his fork, still piled with toast. He'd cooked her a portion, she realized. Without her even asking. She frowned, but moved to grab her own plate from the cabinet and sat down across from him. There was no doubt about it; he was an enigma wrapped in a mystery. Still, the toast smelled divine and as she found it unlikely he'd spell—or poison—his own food, she helped herself to a piece. A rush of spicy, rich goodness met her tongue and _damn it_ she unconsciously moaned as she chewed. She reached for another bite before she had even swallowed, not caring what he thought. Even with her pitiful selection of ingredients, it was clear he was a far better cook.

The Goblin King's ensuing snort made no secret of his amusement, but he said nothing as he finished his own slice and took another. For some minutes, the scraping of forks and knives was their only conversation.

When Sarah swallowed the last of her piece, she looked up to find him just staring, head cocked as if awaiting praise. "You cook," she said simply, still not able to fully wrap her head around the madness of the morning.

The eyebrow raised again. "Surely you didn't assume the goblins prepared my meals? Or that I summoned food from nothing?"

She had wondered about the second. "No," she shook her head. She could imagine the disaster. "Not goblins, but the others like you. Castle staff."

A shadow passed across the king's face, but it settled quickly. "My kind live outside the Goblin Kingdom," he said without expression, standing to take his plate to the sink.

"But, they were there in my run. I saw them. Danced with them."

"Well-crafted illusions." He turned, leaning back against the counter gracefully. "A masquerade without dancers would have hardly been a masquerade, Sarah." He saw her unspoken question as her forehead pinched, and grinned. "Not everyone was an illusion, of course."

She squirmed a bit in her chair. The peach-dream masquerade had been the most embarrassing part of her run, and not because she'd shattered walls and forgot about Toby. She had sought him with inexplicable haste, as if his dance was the puzzle piece that made her whole. Then there was the singing. _If the clock hadn't chimed_ …she exhaled deeply. She still couldn't explain it fully, but chalked it up to girlish fantasies and her younger self's obsession with royalty. If he hadn't been an illusion, he would have known his temptation succeeded, if only briefly. It was no wonder he kept a self-assured air despite her win.

His grin hadn't eased, and she couldn't stop herself. "I was fifteen," she attempted to reason. "Most girls my age would have jumped at the chance to dance with a king. _Any_ king."

"Assuredly," he replied, but his face lacked any hint of agreement. The temperature in the room ticked up a notch as his gaze sharpened.

She _could. not._ discuss this right now. His hidden talent had already added to her unease. Sarah pushed back her chair with a force amplified by pent-up frustration. "I'm not having this conversation with you now, Goblin King." She dumped her plate on top of his in the sink and did her best to ignore his nearness as she rinsed their two dishes. She sighed as he wordlessly handed her the pan and his mixing bowl, and they followed both plates into the dishwasher a minute later. With a soft 'thanks', she turned briskly on her heels towards the door.

"Jareth."

She caught herself on the doorframe, snapping her head back. "What?"

"You cannot refer to me as 'Goblin King' around your authorities. My name is Jareth. I would suggest you get accustomed to using it."

_Jareth._ Hoggle had mentioned it several times, but she couldn't recall ever using his name. It would have made him all the more real and not just a title. He was right, however. She couldn't slip up and call him 'Goblin King' while she attempted to dissuade the government's attention. She eyes him coolly. "I know your name, Jareth. I'll be fine."

"Of that, _Sarah_ ," he almost purred, and Sarah gripped the edge of the frame tighter as her name echoed dangerously, "I am certain."


	6. The Interrogation

Sarah was on edge. It was almost nine-thirty, and since the Goblin King— _Jareth_ , she reminded herself—had whispered her name like a promise, she'd been unable to keep still. Nerves about the meeting aside, something about his asks troubled her. It wasn't as if he'd harmed her; in fact, he'd offered to _assist_ her several times. But, that he'd seemed pleased—almost victorious—with every move she'd made was enough to spur thoughts that she was falling into an elaborate trap.

She stopped pacing and sat down on the end of her bed, groaning. From her research in some very obscure books, the Fae were a race known for mischief and games. Deception and seduction. Pretty words and even prettier physiques that could spell mortal minds with minimal effort. She wasn't positive that's what he was, but the definition fit Jareth to a T. She had _known_ this when she'd called him and still, she found herself pulled down the rabbit hole. Taking the crystal, allowing him into the investigation, letting him spell the minds of government authorities...she rubbed at her temples. Why couldn't she think of any alternatives? She had always been able to outwit him before.

The knock on her open door was startling, and she looked over to find the Goblin King watching her expectantly. But he was decidedly less… _Goblin-y_. There was a sheen around him that caused her eyes to water, but she saw his strange, up-swept markings had faded into skin and his brows flared naturally, albeit sharply. His hair was shorter, the wild halo tamed into neat waves that fell across his brow. Sarah's fingers itched as one strand came untucked from his ear to shade mismatched eyes, but she dug her nails into her palms. A pressed, three-piece dark blue suit replaced his tight breeches and billowy shirts. No tie. Instead, he'd undone the top few buttons of his white shirt to mimic his typical look, the thin chain of his pendant the only visible sign of his otherworldly self. Sarah finally had to blink when it burned to keep looking, wiping at tears.

"What is that?" She demanded, wiping at her eyes again as the sheen around him blinked.

"A glamour," he answered, tilting his head slightly. "It will keep your authorities from asking questions."

"How do you figure that? I can't even look at you for a few seconds without my eyes watering."

"Yes, I can see that," he drawled, and she scowled. "Your time in the Underground would have sharpened your senses to some magics. You remember, of course, you shattered one such glamour. Your authorities will not have the same gifts."

_Damn peach-dream._ She stood, wiping at her eyes again. "This is not going to work if I can't keep my eyes open."

"As difficult as it may be to not look at me, Sarah," he said easily, and Sarah's teeth clenched, "you need only focus on your authorities. I still suspect this not to take long."

It better not, she thought vehemently. She was worried about how to briefly distract the cops with words; feigning allergies in the middle of November on top of that would be impossible. She turned her head away slightly, testing. It still itched when she only saw him out of the corner of her eye, but she might be able to manage it if he sat beside her and not across. "Fine," she said, grimacing. "Let's just go."

The drive to the station was uneventful. Sarah had driven Toby there on a handful of occasions when he'd applied for the job, and remembered the route well. She was grateful her sense of direction had improved somewhat from her time in the Labyrinth. She side-eyed the king in the passenger seat, then snapped her eyes back to the road when the glint hurt. She supposed it had been decent then if she'd been able to best the Goblin King. The one thing about him that had always been clear was that he detested losing.

Toby was waiting outside with man-goblin Grog when Sarah pulled into the lot. She snorted as she slammed her door closed. As she expected, her brother looked like he'd attempted to cram for midterms and finals in the impossible span of one night, and hadn't found time to look in a mirror. Grog looked positively jubilant. "Rough night?"

Toby ticked his head at Grog. "My roommates offered him a beer," he explained, looking behind Sarah tiredly. "You weren't lying about that."

"Assuredly not," the Goblin King drawled.

Sarah tensed as the Goblin King sidled up beside her, but kept her focus on Toby. He was looking at the disguised king pensively, but it wasn't clear he was squinting because of the glamour. After a moment, his expression eased and he nodded, clear-eyed. He turned and waved them inside, pulling Grog up the steps beside him.

Sarah was unnerved. "Toby was Underground. Why didn't he flinch at your glamour?" She hissed from the side of her mouth. She heard him snort gracefully but say nothing, and she stopped walking up the steps, spinning to face him. "I'm serious, Jareth. _Why?_ "

The Goblin King's eyes flickered at the sound of his name and he leaned down to whisper back in her ear. "Do you recall him falling under, or shattering, any enchantments?"

"You know I have no idea what you did to him while I ran your Labyrinth."

The Goblin King pulled up slightly, grinning, and moved to catch the station door. "I assure you; he was not harmed. He is unlikely to notice the glamour."

Sarah was not at all satisfied by his answer, but her eyes were starting to water and she realized several employees just inside the station door were watching them speculatively, so she bit her tongue and followed him inside. The station was bustling, the constant ringing of phones and shouted orders nearly drowning out the rush of bodies across the entrance hall. She wiped her eyes quickly and looked for Toby. Fortunately, the back of his blonde head was easy to spot against the dark uniforms, even in the chaos. He was talking with a tall, gray-haired officer who appeared to be nodding along to whatever Toby was explaining. Two sharp suits at his side eyed her with interest.

"Sarah!" Toby called back, waving her over again.

Sarah took a deep breath, steadying herself for the questioning, but yelped when Jareth's warm arm came around her hip, pulling her tight against his side. Before she could twist away, his grip tightened and he leaned down to whisper urgently in her ear.

" _There is magic here. Beyond my own."_ He pulled back slightly; nostrils flared, but the rest of his face deceptively calm despite his warning. He kept his grip tight as Sarah stopped pulling and her eyes widened.

" _What_? _Where?"_ She whispered back, but he only shook his head tersely. He either didn't know or didn't want to tell her, but he was obviously unsettled. His grip tense. Which boded _terribly_ for a plan that depended on carefully luring authorities into a spell. A cold sweat began to bead at the back of her neck as the implications set in. If he didn't know the source…

Would Jareth's spell even _work_ on someone with magic?

Toby and the three men were watching her expectantly, and Sarah realized she and Jareth hadn't moved forward at all, despite Toby waving her over. They'd seen them. There was no way to sneak out unnoticed.

Another whisper in her ear, this one insistent. " _Follow along_." Sarah felt him nudge against her back, directing her towards Toby and the three men at the end of the entrance hall. She didn't fight him. He had some sort of plan; she prayed he knew what he was doing.

When they stopped a foot from the four men, Sarah was certain Toby would say something about her practically hanging on the Goblin King when her brother had only known her to snap at him. But Toby's brow furrowed only briefly before he gestured to Sarah, jumping into introductions.

"This is my sister, Sarah, and…uhh…" Toby paused, suddenly realizing he hadn't coordinated with Sarah on an identity for the king. He took another look at Sarah, still tucked under the Goblin King's arm, and spat out the first thing that came to his head. "Her..uhh..boyfriend…uhh.."

"Jay," the king's measured voice cut in, nodding towards the men. "And its fiancé, actually."

Sarah choked on air, but the Goblin King squeezed her waist again and she stilled. "It's quite recent. My Sarah is still a bit surprised by my offer."

_Jesus. Christ. The absolute nerve of him._

The three unnamed men offered polite congratulation, apparently unfazed by Sarah's brief slip. Toby mouthed an apology at Sarah. She bit her tongue.

"We just have a few questions for you, Ms. Williams. If you would?" One of the suited men jerked his head back.

Sarah risked a glance at Jareth to look for a signal. The plan had been for Jareth to be her _friend_. Emotional support during brief, voluntary, questioning. If the authorities wanted to talk with her that badly, she'd thought they'd tolerate her friend sitting in. He'd clearly changed that facet. 'Jay the fiancé' was hardly what they'd prepared for—he'd specifically _told_ her to call him Jareth. For all she knew, he'd tossed the entire plan out the window. At her look, however, his hand on her hip clenched tighter.

Signal received; he wasn't letting her go alone. It _had_ been the plan, she reasoned, but Sarah couldn't decide if his iron grip was more reassuring or concerning. She needed him in there. He still hadn't loosened his arm.

Sarah blinked twice, clearing tears, and turned back to the agent. "I don't think I'll be much help, but that's fine. Which way?" She pulled Jareth into the hallway behind them, cutting off a chance to reject her unspoken request. It seemed to work.

"Third door on the right," one offered, catching up to her and pointing. "We'll be right in."

Toby was about to follow after them when he felt a hand grab his shoulder.

"Williams—with me," Chief Danon barked, turning left towards his office. "We've got another meeting. The Olsons are here."

Toby took one last glance at Sarah and the king as they retreated down the hall, but jumped to follow his boss. He pulled Grog along. "The Olsons, sir? What for?"

"Olson's wife is getting impatient. She keeps jamming my phone line, asking about updates. It's becoming obnoxious." He nodded over at man-goblin Grog. "If we can show them we're making progress on that cult, I'm hoping they'll leave me in peace for a bit."

"You want to show them Grog? He hasn't done anything yet." Toby wasn't even certain Grog would be able to infiltrate the cult without raising suspicion. Gathering actual intel was a hope above that. A quick glance at the would-be spy, currently smacked up against the reflective glass lining the hallway—oohing—didn't inspire confidence.

They reached Danon's office at the hall's end and the chief stopped outside, spinning back to Toby before he entered. "It's all we've got right now, Williams." Toby just nodded.

Chief Danon took a noticeable breath and pulled open his door. "Mr. Olson. Mrs. Olson. Apologies for the delay. I just learned of new developments."

Toby kept a blank face as the Representative and his wife twisted around in their seats; handsome dark-haired figures that oozed of privilege and appeared to have been plucked from a J. Crew catalogue. Pleats. Cable-knit sweaters. Pastels and pearls. Was that a jeweled broach? Grog shrieked and Toby had to grab him by the collar to stop him from leaping at the coifed woman, hands splayed. " _Hey! No._ " Grog didn't stop pulling.

Mrs. Olson stood, face pulled tight in what was either disgust or fury. Probably both. "Where is my _son_? It's been two weeks with nothing. What have your men been doing?"

Chief Danon walked right past and fell into his chair. His sigh was pronounced. "I assure you, ma'am, we've got our best men on the case." He nodded over at Toby. "This is officer Williams. He's found us a way into the suspect's crew. We'll know more very shortly. Williams—show them."

Toby wanted to obey the command, but Grog was still straining against his hold. There was no way to grab the crystal in his pack without him taking off like a bullet. " _What is it?"_ Toby whispered.

"Shiny!"

" _What_?" Mrs. Olson reached for her nose, stepping back at Grog's outburst. The gems on her broach glinted sharply at the motion.

The jewelry. Toby sighed. This whole op was turning into a master class of bribery. " _I'll get you_ more _if you leave hers alone_."

Grog's efforts slowed, and Toby took advantage of the moment. In seconds, the man-goblin shifted and Toby watched as both Olsons straightened, eying Grog with a mix of surprise and relief.

"Give us just a little more time. We'll find your son."

* * *

Once Sarah opened the door to the empty interrogation room, Jareth released his hold on her. After glancing back briefly to see that the two suits hadn't moved, and were instead whispering something together in the middle of the hall, the king closed it behind them.

Sarah didn't waste any time in confronting him. "What sort of plan is 'Jay the fiancé'? I thought we agreed on Jareth the _friend_ ," she emphasized through clenched teeth. Tears blinked.

"The plan changed," he said flatly, pulling out one of the chairs and jutting his head at it. "Until I know what it is I'm sensing, it is not prudent to refer to me by my true name."

She frowned, but sat in the proffered chair. It seemed odd that he'd be concerned about his name, but his admission confirmed one of her fears: he didn't know the source of the magic. It was possible that was why he was cautious. The second change still seemed needless. " _Fiancé_?" She hissed when he sat down in the chair next to hers.

His expression finally eased, and he gave her a lopsided grin. "It is also now prudent that you don't leave my side in this place. It is the most logical relationship."

_Logical, my ass._ Sarah was about to protest that she had plenty of _friends_ that stood close at her side but the opening of the door cut her off. Both suits entered quickly. The agent who'd invited her inside slid into the chair across from her and placed several large accordion folders on the table between them. His double stayed back, leaning against the closed door as if to prevent anyone from interrupting. He trained his gaze on Jareth, unblinking.

The seated agent took control. "Thank you for coming, Ms. Williams. I assume your brother told you why you are here?"

"He did."

The agent nodded. "Then you understand that if anyone asks, this conversation never happened. We'll know if you say otherwise." His hands hovered over the edge of the top folder, but he didn't open it, watching Jareth closely.

Sarah picked up his pointed glance alongside the warning, and shifted in her seat. "That won't be a problem. We won't mention anything." If all went as planned, for them, it would be as if the conversation had never happened anyway.

Even with her promise, the agent kept his focus on Jareth. "Is your fiancé aware of your situation, Ms. Williams?"

Sarah jerked at the odd question. "Excuse me? My situation?"

The seated agent drummed his fingers along the edge of the larger folder, nodding tightly. "Yes. I would rather not discuss such…intimate information around your fiancé if he is not already aware."

The pause before intimate was pronounced, but Sarah found it meaningless. Toby had told her they wanted to ask about the goblin. She could think of nothing 'intimate' about that inquiry. Could Toby have misunderstood?

"Sarah's secrets are my own," Jareth answered in her stead, and Sarah side-eyed him again, startled. 'Fiancé' or not, the claim was unbelievable. He was supposed to be drawing them _away_ with his spell, not instigating more questions. But, as Sarah turned away from the glint, she saw the agent unwind the clasp on his folder and reach for something inside, apparently satisfied with Jareth's answer. He didn't pull it out immediately.

"Very well," the agent focused on her, nodding again. "After you brother mentioned that you assisted with acquiring the goblin, and that he borrowed him from a man, my colleague and I were presented with an interesting lead." The folder crunched as the agent pulled out something bound from inside and placed it on the table before Sarah's quickly blanching face. The agent tapped twice on the red cover. "So you will tell me, Ms. Williams, how long you have had a relationship with, and where to find, this Goblin King."

_Oh. Fuck._

Jareth's hand moved to clench her thigh, and she jumped, momentarily distracted. But, the agent kept tapping the book, awaiting her answer.

" _Where_ , Ms. Williams."

Some of the color returned to her face as the request sunk in. If the agent was asking her where the Goblin King was, he at least didn't know he was sitting across from him. It was possible the rest was a wild guess. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know any kings."

The agent leaned forward in his chair, unconvinced. "We have reason to believe you are well acquainted. And from a young age."

Jareth's hand clenched again. Sarah eyed him quickly, praying he was about to cast his spell. But his hand stayed on her leg and the twist of wrists failed to appear. The slight shake of his head re-knotted her stomach. He wouldn't do it. Couldn't do it? Sarah grit her teeth and narrowed her eyes at the agent. She had no idea how he knew about her time in the Labyrinth, but her lies would have to be enough. "You're mistaken."

"Hmm."

"Where did you locate this book?" Jareth's voice interrupted, calm but curious, and Sarah couldn't help but glance at him again. He was eying the book with a surprising amount of distaste.

The agent ceased his tapping. "Why the interest?"

"I'm a collector."

"Of books?"

"Rare books. That book is exceedingly so."

The agent frowned and pulled back the book to return it to his folder. "It's not for sale." He returned his focus to Sarah. "If you don't know this Goblin King, where did you find the goblin?"

There it was. The expected question for which she had no answer. Well, she _had_ an answer. But she had no intention of telling a truth that equated to a guilty plea. She, on a single wish, could summon otherworldly kings and creatures? And mythical creatures had snatched a child mere miles away from her home? She still didn't fully believe it and said king was squeezing her thigh like a tourniquet. Out of nowhere, however, the pressure loosened.

"Sarah obtained the goblin through me."

Sarah stilled but the seated agent, to his credit, didn't even flinch at Jareth's unexpected admission. "Really. And just where did you obtain it?"

"As I mentioned: I'm a collector. Rarities call to me. The goblin has been under my purview for some time. I do not know his origins."

The agent pursed his lips, contemplative. "Just what do you do with this goblin? Kidnap children?"

Sarah felt the glamour spark. "I am a collector; not a kidnapper," Jareth hissed, and any remaining calm in the room went out with the denial. "Neither I nor my goblin were involved in this kidnapping."

Even the seated agent looked unsettled now, gripping the tie on his accordion folder as if it was a shield. The man at the door shifted noticeably.

"Is there anything else you wish to falsely accuse us of?" Jareth hissed again, not waiting for an answer before he pulled up Sarah roughly.

"I am only doing my job, sir," the agent at the table said crisply, also standing. "We want the child returned, and the perpetrator identified and arrested. We were rightly told Ms. Williams had valuable information." His justification just raised a growl from the king, and the agent recognized the threat. And there was no point in continuing without first briefing the top. Frowning, he reached for his wallet. "Here's my card, Ms. Williams. If you think of anything that might help," he started, giving Jareth a pointed glance, "call me."

Sarah took the card wordlessly, nodding without reading its contents, and Jareth pulled her quickly around the table. But the man at the door didn't budge.

"Don't leave the state," he ordered. The gruffness in his voice made the consequences clear. Only after Sarah nodded again did he step aside.

Jareth pulled Sarah tight once they exited, moving briskly down the hall and towards the exit. The faint scent of magic still present, but unidentifiable. They needed to leave.

As before, Sarah didn't fight him. But she _would_ be getting answers when they were alone.

_Immediately_.


	7. Otherworldly Suspects

Jareth kept her tight against his side as they strode down the station steps towards her car. The restraint was the only thing keeping her from punching something until it splintered.

Sarah had predicted that going to the police station would be a horrible mistake. She had been wrong: it had been _disastrous._ The kind of disaster which epic sonnets memorialize, warning future mortals about naïve heroines who rest their hopes on secretive kings and then charge blindly into battle. She had no idea what she was involved in, but it seemed like no simple kidnapping. She didn't know the kid. She barely knew the politician. It was almost unfathomable that the kidnapping of a politician's son would uncork a secret she had told no one but Toby some twenty years later. And even he only knew the basics. Who would want to throw her under the bus? The only others who knew about her run were in the Underground.

Were _supposed_ to be, at least. If Jareth's instincts were right, there was yet another magical intruder in her world. Someone or something or _multiple_ somethings in the station. Visitors? Suspects? ...Cops? Sarah could connect the dots. Toby promised he hadn't told anyone about the Labyrinth. He was a terrible liar, so the only other way those agents could have known about her time in the Labyrinth would have been from someone from the Underground to have told them. And someone must have given them the book. Jareth's surprise had appeared sincere - more instinct than intent - when the agent mentioned his title. Her leg would have the bruises tomorrow to prove it. Unless he was an exceptionally gifted actor as well as a king, he wasn't the culprit.

That didn't mean, of course, that she didn't plan on making him prove he wasn't involved. He would explain why he refused to hold up his end of the bargain with the spell and instead dragged them in deeper. He would damn well answer every last one of her questions. Straight-up. No deflection.

He released her at the driver's side door and the sudden loss of his warmth was jarring. Neither said a word until two car doors were slammed.

"Who did you tell?"

His question rolled off easily and Sarah frowned. Jareth couldn't possibly believe she'd been carelessly talking about the Labyrinth. She wasn't foolish enough to bind herself to a lifetime in a psych ward. "Only Toby. And you? Who did you tell? Who in the Underground knows?"

"Those, unfortunately, are two different questions."

"Now is not the time to bullshit me, Jareth," she snapped, turning the key in the ignition. "Someone gave them that book and told them I'd wished away someone to you." She ignored the glare and faced him head-on. "Was it you?"

He eyed her coolly and the sheen around him flashed, the faintest hint of color above his eyes blipping in then out. "Do you truly believe I would tell your authorities such a thing? When doing so would draw unwanted attention to me?"

No, she didn't think so. Not after he purposefully glamoured himself so they wouldn't notice his unnatural features. Not with the hostility he'd exhibited after being accused. But truthfully, she knew next to nothing about him and his motives for being here were still unknown. He'd also failed to cast the agreed-upon spell. Failed to even _attempt_ it. He was still staring through her. "Why didn't you cast the spell?"

A muscle in his jaw ticked, and Sarah blinked several times as she awaited her answer, keeping the pressure of her stare steady. Eventually, it forced his response. "The book," he answered, turning away.

"The book? That was why the spell was absolutely necessary!"

"Do you recall how you obtained that book, Sarah?" He looked back. There was fatigue laced through the sharpness of his words. Something patient, but pained, in his expression.

Sarah pulled back. _Where_ she obtained it? It had been a gift, but she had never confirmed from who or where'd they'd found it. She remembered when at least. She had been fourteen. And it had been her birthday. Her mother - her _real_ mother - had been starring in her latest play on London's West End. Something by Shakespeare, but she'd been too upset to care about the title. It was clear even to Sarah that Linda wouldn't be coming back. Linda's career had always come first. Never her father. Never her. When she'd left, her father began to see a woman he'd met through one of his firm associates. And then his attention to Sarah waned. He'd taken Karen out the night of her birthday, celebrating some big case he'd won earlier that day. He'd given Sarah something before they left - for the life of her she couldn't recall what - but it must have been wrong because Sarah remembered locking herself in her room and crying. It was only when she was too exhausted to feel that she noticed the square brown package on her vanity. No tags, note, or postage: just the book. She had always assumed her mother had sent it from London and her father had removed the outer packaging. Linda had sent nothing else. But she'd never asked.

Jareth waited for her to process her memories, silent. His pointed question, however, had already made clear Linda was not responsible.

"Was it you? Did you leave it on my vanity?"

He frowned. "It is of the Underground, but not something that can be left. It is something created. The books are unusual magic." He saw her open her mouth and cut off her question, shaking his head slightly, "no, not the magic I mentioned. There was something else in the station."

Sarah's brow furrowed, still confused at just what exactly he meant. "You seemed surprised when he pulled out the book. If the books are magic, couldn't you sense it?"

"Whoever provided it to them made that impossible. It had to have been masked. It is powerful magic," and he hesitated, clenching teeth, "and in that proximity, not something I can cast around." When Sarah said nothing, her stare still fierce, he repeated his earlier question. "Do you truly believe I desired the attention of your authorities? There were no better options."

No, she was even more certain he did not, his frustration with the book now also plainly evident. For some reason, she still needed to hear him _say_ it to feel true. She willed her eyes to focus on his own, watching carefully for any sign of a tell. "You didn't give them the book?"

"No."

Resolute. No hesitation. Not even a customary thinning of lids or a twitch of lips. It was perhaps the first straight answer he'd given her, and she breathed out once through her nose, returning her eyes to the wheel to back out of the spot. She believed him. Which meant someone else below must have talked. "Besides my friends, who else in the Underground would know about my time in the Labyrinth?"

He didn't respond for a long moment, and Sarah stopped just at the edge of the lot, looking over at him again. His focus stayed forward, but Sarah could see the strain at his mouth, the slight tension in his neck as a vein pulsed. This was far more than frustration. If he suspected someone, she needed to know. " _Who_ , Jareth?"

"I cannot answer that," he bit out.

"Why not?" He had been surprisingly responsive to her prior questions in the car. Irritated, but responsive. More so than before the interrogation, at least.

"Because I do not know, Sarah. I do not know who has access to the records of the High Court."

_Oh._ Anger stirred by ignorance. She returned her eyes to the road. That, she understood. She breathed out again, her anger at him fading. Knowing Jareth's arrogance, she believed it too.

"I don't even have access."

His solemn admission caught her off-guard. "Wait a minute. Why does this court have records of your Labyrinth that you can't get to?" She slowed as the light faded to yellow, and turned to catch his eye. "Jesus!" She slammed the breaks, unprepared for the sight of the unmasked Goblin King at her side. "Way to warn me."

At her outburst, the tension in his face relaxed. A corner of lips quirked. "Warn you?"

The change was stark, almost incomparable to his minutes ago restrained fury. As fast as the switching of a light. She gestured vaguely to her face before waving her hand over at him. "You dropped the glamour."

The flash of teeth was brilliant, if not unexpected. "Its purpose has been served. Now you may regard me all you wish."

Sarah's fingers curled deeper into the leather of the wheel. She thought she'd been making progress on straight answers, but he was insufferable. Mercurial. Beautiful and a surprisingly good cook, too, damn it—but insufferable. It didn't dissuade her questions. "Why does this court have your records?"

He scoffed. "They are more yours than mine, Sarah. It was your challenge."

"Alright; why does this court have _my_ records, then?" She didn't think he would respond. For several seconds, the corner of his mouth just tightened. Even when he spoke, the line barely slipped through clenched teeth.

"The High Court is known to amuse themselves with the struggles of mortals."

Sarah felt the edge of his words slice across her skin. He was vague but pointed; the tip of his barb drenched to maim, if not mortally wound, for some unknown offense. To her recollection, his disdain was hypocritical. He'd been similarly amused when she'd wished Toby away. "Amuse themselves?"

"Yes," he said simply.

He seemed disinclined to elaborate. His hesitation tapped into her anxiety of who might want her secrets unleashed, riling up knots that seemed destined to bind her insides together. She pulled into the grocery lot and grabbed his shoulder harshly. "What do they do?"

He jumped slightly before tracking his eyes from her arm to his shoulder, then, back up into her eyes, unflinching. "Are you sure you wish to know, Sarah?" His voice low, and tinged with warning. "It will not put your mind at ease."

A bit of her bravado slipped. She had wanted answers…but perhaps this was one better suited for the inside of her apartment. Where she could smash objects, as needed. Still, there was one last question worth asking now. "Do you think this court is involved with this kidnapping?"

He frowned slightly. "It is possible."

"Then I want to know." She unbuckled herself quickly before she pushed open her door. "When I finish in here." She shifted to get up but then leaned back against the seat again. "You aren't allergic to anything, are you?"

"Planning on killing me?"

"Not yet. I need you to first figure out who is telling the agents about us, and get me out of this mess."

"That's not much of an incentive to assist," he deadpanned.

She sighed and pulled herself from the seat. "I'm just getting groceries. Since it's clear this isn't going to resolve itself today, I don't want to buy something that you can't eat. So?"

"I am unaware of any mortal food that would harm me."

She nodded, then slammed the door. That was good enough for her.

* * *

Toby understood why Danon had wanted to show the Olsons Grog—it quieted them immediately. Neither Olson asked a single question once he'd turned. Mr. Olson at one point looked like he'd swallowed something excessively sweet, his smile puckering oddly, but he too just shook Danon's hand before promptly leaving his office. Danon called back that he'd keep them updated. It was unclear either heard it.

"I don't think they expected to see a goblin, sir," Toby chuckled after they'd left. "They know you suspect goblins in the kidnapping, right?"

"Yes. They've been advised." Chief Danon took off his glasses to rub at his eyes before slipping them back on, plainly fatigued. "Collier and Steele wanted to see you again when we were done here. Just wait at your desk. I don't know how long they'll be with your sister."

"Yes, sir."

Toby returned Grog to his man-goblin form before stepping out himself. The hallways were still busy, and he didn't know who else was in on the op. The agents had warned him to keep the investigation confidential. Grog was not something Toby could pass off as a part of everyday business.

Toby's desk was near the back of the cubicles on the second floor. They took the stairs. While Grog might have been thrilled at the invention, considering his latest quirk, Toby felt it was better not to risk allowing him near flashing buttons that would call the fire department. Or worse: stall the elevator. His affinity for shiny objects would be something they'd have to work out before his going uncover.

A stack of reports awaited him at his desk and Toby sighed, realizing his assistance in the most important case the office had, probably _ever_ , hadn't encouraged his superiors to cut him any slack. He tossed a highlighter and a pad of paper at Grog in the hopes of distracting him before grabbing the topmost file. Traffic citations. Wonderful.

"Williams."

Toby looked up to see Murdock leaning against the edge of his cubby wall. Murdock glanced towards Grog, who had taken to chewing on the cap of the highlighter, before shaking off the oddity. His brow furrowed.

"How did you do that?"

Toby had a good guess what he meant. Still. "Do what?"

Murdock shook his head at Grog again, frowning. "Bringing him. Transforming him. Changing him back." He crossed his arms. "Are you involved with this cult?"

"What? No! I just borrowed him from someone," Toby insisted. "I hadn't heard anything about the cult until yesterday."

Murdock watched Williams closely, but he appeared sincere. It was the same explanation he'd given yesterday. Murdock nodded. "You mentioned last night he was someone your sister knew?"

Toby stilled, suddenly realizing Sarah and the Goblin King's plan wouldn't kill the story about his sister's involvement; he'd forgotten to tell Sarah more than the agents knew about what he'd said last night. Murdock knew, too. _Damn it._

"Uh…yes, sir." There was nothing else to say now. The king would just have to spell Murdock when he was done with the agents. He would just be careful not to tell anyone else. Murdock knew it was a confidential op; it was possible no one besides him and Danon knew about the goblin in his office anyway, and there'd be no one he _could_ tell. Hopefully. He was due for a break.

Murdock pursed his lips, pausing to wait for more. Williams' penchant for overtalking was well-known in the office. But at his weak smile, Murdock continued, still curious about the man. "Can I ask how she met this man with the goblin?"

"Oh. Well…she's known him for a while," Toby offered, hoping his vague response would dissuade Murdock from continuing his questions. Murdock didn't respond but kept his stare expectant, apparently waiting for more. Toby glanced around quickly, but only found Murdock's sharp focus. Where were those agents? What was taking the king so long? He realized he had to say something. "I'm not sure about the specifics. She's pretty private about her personal life."

Murdock kept another pause. Williams only shrugged. That was all he was getting for the moment, but the mystery man would undoubtedly need to be questioned. His office hadn't come across any inkling of the creatures outside the cult and that had only been discovered in the last few weeks. Just who was this guy?

With a shake of his head, Murdock focused closely on Williams. He believed Williams' claim about not being involved in the cult, but something about him still seemed off. Murdock had known about the strange creatures for nearly a week and still felt as if he'd been sucked into some alternate reality every time he discussed the case. Williams was entirely too comfortable with the situation. "You don't seem too surprised by all this."

"What?"

"The cult, the goblin, the dwarf-like things," Murdock ticked off fingers as he went. "Creatures straight out of a fantasy novel are just wandering around Hartford. I've seen them and I still can't wrap my head around it."

He had no idea how spot-on he was, Toby thought. He offered him a slim smile to stop himself from laughing. "I am surprised too, sir. It's pretty unbelievable. But Grog is clearly real."

"Mr. Williams," a familiar voice interrupted, and Toby looked up to find Collier and Steele – _finally_ – making their way over. "Could you and the goblin come with us?"

"Of course. Excuse me, sir," Toby said, grabbing the highlighter out of Grog's mouth with a sigh. "C'mon, Grog." He offered his sleeve and looked up at the agents. He couldn't tell any difference physically from the spell. As with yesterday, their faces betrayed nothing. He stuck to his story. "I'm sorry my sister wasn't any help. I didn't think she would be."

The agent nearest Toby turned to his companion quickly, but said nothing, and spun back to wave Toby to follow. Collier and Steele were each carrying large accordion folders, he noted absently. They must have found something from those leads they mentioned last night. More pictures? They directed Toby and Grog back into the conference room.

The taller agent rested his hands on his folders, leaning forward slightly. "How much do you know about your sister's fiancé, Mr. Williams?"

_That_ had not been what Toby expected. Wasn't the spell supposed to erase thoughts of Sarah...? "Sir?"

"Jay. My colleague and I found him somewhat...unusual."

_Unusual?_ Toby frowned, now increasingly concerned that the spell had gone awry. The Goblin King was exceedingly unusual, but the plan should have distracted their attention from him and Sarah. "Not well," he slowly replied. "I just recently met him." He couldn't stop his question. "What was unusual?"

The agent considered Toby for a second but then frowned and waved a hand, sitting back in his chair. "It's unimportant. We have other things to discuss. We've received a tip on when the next meeting will take place. Tonight. Midnight."

"That soon?"

Both agents nodded tightly. "It's not ideal, but at least we have today to prepare. We need to get this right the first time. It's unclear when our next opportunity will be." He unwound a folder and sent Toby a slim smile. "I'd get comfortable, Mr. Williams. We're going to be here a while."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to those following along. More mysteries here, but there are answers, I promise. Even answers apart from Sarah's questions.


	8. Disturbing Compulsions

The aisles at Stop & Shop were overwhelming on a good day. Sarah's day was nothing of the sort.

She hated grocery shopping. Hated it with a passion that should have been reserved for a circle of hell. It was tedious. Expensive. Required eventual heavy lifting up three flights of steps to her apartment. And perhaps most troubling, it called for a degree of planning that she hadn't even been able to wrangle together for more important aspects of her life. It was a deficit that she quickly needed to overcome, what with the present chaos she found herself in.

There was no doubt the agents would be following up with her and 'Jay' after what he'd disclosed. What the hell was she supposed to do when they demanded an explanation of what Grog had been doing in her world? Where he had been hiding? Because it seemed clear the discovery of goblins in her world was new. She stilled as she grabbed for a jar of marinara sauce. What would Grog say if they asked _him_? She and Jareth could deny their actual history, but she wasn't confident the goblin had an aptitude for verbal deception. Not with the simplicity of words and actions she'd seen. She'd need to ask Jareth about that. In any case, if authorities didn't find the kid soon, there was no doubt they'd call them in again. Unless they abandoned the book, she and Jareth were going to need a back-up plan.

Or she was going to need to get a passport. Pronto.

Sarah set the jar down carefully in her cart. She had no idea what the king preferred to eat, but he'd have to make do with what she could afford. She'd already burned through her initial payment on her last book, and it was hard to predict how much her royalties would bring in. He'd claimed nothing would harm him. She cracked a smile. He hadn't tried her cooking yet. It was likely to make him permanently reconsider that aspect of hosting. She kept her grin as she pulled a box of noodles into the cart: if she could convince him to do all the cooking, there'd be at least one benefit to having him as a houseguest.

Purchases made and wallet, regrettably, considerably thinner, Sarah stuffed the bags in the trunk before sliding back into her car. Jareth had discovered the lever tucked alongside his seat and was leaning back with an easy grace that should have been impossible, bending space which her cramped car lacked and putting models to shame. It irritated her on levels she wasn't comfortable admitting. At the slam of her door, he stirred, and his familiar grin resurfaced.

"That did not take long. Couldn't stay away?"

Immediately – _disturbingly_ \- she wanted to affirm his quip. And it took some effort for Sarah to force her teeth to clench instead of giving in to the obscene temptation. _What. The. Hell. Sarah._

He obviously noticed her tension, because he laughed softly, and repositioned his elbow so it propped his head on the side door rest. "Something wrong, Sarah?" he inquired easily.

Something was _exceedingly_ wrong. Not because his teasing bothered her, but because it didn't. And it should have. It _absolutely_ should have. The temptation to return the quips just barely lost out to a wall of good sense warning her against engaging in games with a master. She didn't trust herself to speak, so she just shook her head and backed out of the spot.

She could feel his unrelenting stare, but she dared not turn and give him the satisfaction. That unsettling feeling that he was entirely too pleased with himself, despite their disastrous morning, was nestling a pit deep in her stomach, right next to her disturbing impulses. After some time, the pit urged her to speak. "Is there something on my face?"

"Beg pardon?"

"You've been staring at me for the last ten minutes."

"It is distracting you?" he questioned wryly.

She was compelled to say 'yes' and bit down on her tongue instead of stroking his ego. She glanced at him quickly, issuing a sharp scowl instead of a response. He _was_ distracting. He knew he was. He knew damn well he'd been able to distract her even at fifteen when she didn't understand the pull to be with him. Now, at thirty-five and somewhat experienced, it was unden…

_Jesus!_ She just barely missed hitting the car next to her as she swerved. What the hell was wrong with her? Undeniable? To _be_ with him? Had the stress already caused her to snap?

Jareth grabbed at the roof at the unexpected jerk. "I thought you intended to kill me _after_ I assisted?"

"I want you alive." It was out before her brain could process it, and her eyes bulged. Mouth similarly agape. There was no way he hadn't heard it and little chance that he wouldn't spin that admission to his benefit. Her, admitting she wanted him in any sense of the word, the feather in his proverbial cap. The leather of the wheel strained under the pressure of her grip.

But, instead of insinuation, only the subtle tremor of a laugh responded to her claim. Amusement and self-satisfaction flowed through the easy release of breath. There was something like expectance in the softness of his voice and its fading echo which disturbed Sarah more than any urge to speak. As if he _knew_ too much and she knew nothing at all. Without thinking, she pulled off the road and the screech of burning rubber followed until she stopped, resting at the far edge of the gas station lot, to glare at her passenger. His wolfish grin confirmed her suspicions: he had _done_ something.

" _What did you do_?" she hissed. His ensuing snort set her further on edge, and she gritted her teeth at his obstinance. Her interrogation had gone to hell ever since he'd dropped his glamour. "Tell me _now_ , Jareth."

He chuckled again, yet the unsettling flicker in his eyes hinted at more than amusement. "Nothing permanent, I assure you. An exercise to settle my curiosity. You've affirmed my suspicions. It will wear off shortly."

"That explains _nothing._ " It did confirm, however, that he _had_ done something. That he was playing games with her despite their pressing crisis. It either didn't anger him as much as his biting hesitance let on, or he'd discovered something immeasurably better to offset it. Neither boded well for her.

He ignored her pointed stare, leaning back into his seat and closing his eyes. "Does it not? Such a pity."

"Is this all a game to you? Faking concern about the agents then messing with my mind?"

"I neither feigned concern nor interfered in your mind, Sarah," he derided. "I provided a key. You used it all on your own." He turned his head then and regarded her coolly. "As I explained, the book was an unpleasant and unexpected development, and one that I intend to resolve."

Sarah pursed her lips. There was a truth that rung within his lines that demanded that she listen. But his riddle-speak was going to drive her crazy. He knew what he'd one – what effect it had on her – and was obviously disinclined to explain. She had done nothing involving any sort of 'key'. Whatever it was, she knew she didn't want it.

"Take back the key, then."

He snorted again. "I'm afraid on that, Sarah, what's said is said. But in this particular instance, yours is only a temporary compulsion. You'll find you can now return to your veil of anger."

_That bastard._ And she stilled for an instant, testing her thoughts. She wanted to jab him in the thigh with her car keys, leave him stranded at the side of the ride in a torrential downpour. She hoped he had an undiscovered and uncomfortable allergy to marinara; the kind that required her to stab him – hard - with an epi-pen. She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly, raised a thankful glance at the ceiling, then turned and jumped minutely. She scowled. " _Stop doing that."_

The Goblin King had reverted into the not-so version of himself, the sheen around him just hazy enough to dispel the lie behind the disguise. At her demand, he allowed himself to smile, then suddenly, to her immense irritation, snapped his fingers and the guise fell again.

"My apologies for the distress," he crooned, and Sarah's eyebrows leaped to her hairline. He flicked a gloved hand over towards the wheel. "You can return us to your lodging, now. We have plans to make regarding the book."

Sarah spared him an odd glance, but then, with another pursing of lips, veered back onto the highway. He wasn't wrong that they needed to plan. And she needed to smash something.

* * *

Toby regretted very few things in his short life. Sleeping through his alarm on the morning of his SAT's. Waiting too long to ask Rebecca Evans to prom. Drinking his weight in beer on graduation night. But as the morning dragged into the afternoon, his compulsion to obtain a goblin to assist his office was beginning to crack the list.

The agents had, unsurprisingly, decided on a very specific and detailed plan to infiltrate the cult. It required Grog to stumble across the gathering, somehow compelled to it by whatever magic the agents believed the group was meddling with. Therein was the first problem: the agents still didn't know what the cult actually did at their gatherings. They had a fair amount of blurry pictures with circles of creatures. In some, a fire pit in the back of an alleyway glowed unnaturally as the group surrounded the flames. The face of the dark-haired man was always hidden by a creature or bad angle, and never alongside Dylan Olson or any other person. It was only because they'd found Dylan's hat in the alleyway that they even tied the group to the kidnapping. They could only assume the Representative's son was part of some spell or ritual. No ransom had been requested. The boy had yet to be returned. It was unknown even if he was _alive_. Grog needed to find a way to bring up Dylan Olson if the cult didn't mention him. And he had to do it without seeming too interested. Or suspicious.

While Grog might have been content to listen to these instructions under other circumstances, in the time between meeting the Olsons and returning to speak with the agents, Toby had been unable to make good on his promise to get Grog _more_ shiny things. And the goblin had noticed.

"C'mon, Grog. Just listen," Toby pleaded, holding Grog by his collar to keep him from sliding out of his chair again. More than once, he'd darted under the table to pluck at the loose carpet threads. Several had been ripped clean from the floor, leaving a bald spot Toby hadn't yet figured out how to hide. Grog was still munching on the threads with aplomb as he swiveled in his chair.

"Promished _s_ _hiny_ , _"_ Grog mumbled, giving Toby an accusing glance.

"I know. I'm sorry. We just have to finish here first. This is really important."

The agents said nothing regarding Grog's recalcitrance. Toby had maneuvered himself into the investigation with his insistence that Grog stayed with him, and it appeared they were holding him to all responsibility. If the gambit failed, he'd take the blame.

"Ther's also the matter of recording, Mr. Williams," the agent Toby now knew as Collier kicked in. "In case your goblin is unable to recount everything at the gathering, it's important we have a backup."

"He's not-" but Toby stopped. That wasn't the important bit. He had a sinking feeling Grog was about to get his promised gifts. "What sort of recording do you need? Audio?" Wires might not catch Grog's attention, but Toby had never come across any hidden video device without the sheen of a lens.

Collier shook his head. "Audio-video. If Dylan is present, this is our second eye. He'll need to wear a hidden camera."

Toby winced. Therein was the second problem. "I don't think that's going to work, sir."

"It's non-negotiable, Williams. Figure it out." He reached into one of his accordion folders and pulled out a metallic sphere no bigger than a button. He clasped it between two fingers. "This needs to be on his front at all times. It will give us a live recording of what's going on. If something goes wrong, we'll also be able to get him out."

Toby gave Grog a side-long glance, tightening his grip on his collar. As expected, he'd stilled in his chair, half-eaten threads falling from a gaping mouth. His attention had been piqued by the shining button that Collier was presenting.

"That's just the thing, sir. Grog has an...affinity for shiny things. I don't think he'll be able to ignore the camera. It might blow his cover."

Collier frowned, stuffing the button back into his folder. "So get him some jewelry as well, Williams. Is he going to be able to assist, or not?"

Toby sighed. He didn't have much of a choice. Sarah had some things he could borrow, at least. More favors she'd likely hang over his head. "Yes, sir. I'll just need to go grab some things at my sister's. It won't take long."

At least if he saw Sarah again, he'd be able to tell her immediately about the issue with Murdock. Maybe she and the king had something to give him so he could spell Murdock to forget her involvement.

If nothing else, she'd have aspirin.

* * *

Jareth's eyes remained uncomfortably affixed to Sarah until she made it home, but he at least assisted with carrying the bags of groceries up her three flights of stairs. She put them away herself. His 'generosity' only extended so far.

She'd bought bread, sliced cheese, greens, and lunchmeat, and after Jareth assured her he was competent enough to construct a sandwich, she'd left him briefly. There was something she needed to check. It seemed impossible given she'd just seen it the prior evening, but the presence of the book at the station made her wonder if someone had broken into her apartment.

The book sat untouched in the back of her closet and she pulled it out wearily. So it was another copy, then. She'd never seen another copy of the book in any store, so Jareth's admission of its ties to the Underground confirmed a concerning truth. Someone from his world - for some unknown and undoubtedly sinister reason - was attempting to connect her to a political kidnapping. And so far, they were doing an exceptional job. She sighed and tucked the book under her arm. Maybe Jareth would know a way it could somehow assist them in building a cover story.

He was already eating when she returned and she tossed the book across from him on the table. He stilled immediately, sandwich mid-way to his mouth.

"They didn't steal my copy. Explain to me again how to get one of these books?"

Jareth set his sandwich down slowly, never taking his eyes from the book. "You kept it," he whispered almost to himself. "All this time?"

Sarah fell into her seat, prepared for his derisive comments. She had not intended on revealing it to him, but the station threw a wrench into those plans. "Yes. Don't ask me why. It's caused me more trouble than good." She waited several seconds, but the blankness of his expression matched his lack of response. It was nothing like she'd expected, especially after the distaste he'd shown the copy at the station. "How do you get a copy of this book, Jareth?" Her speaking his name always seemed to spark his attention.

His gaze left the book to focus on her briefly, and then he brought the sandwich back to his lips. He took a hearty bite and swallowed before finally responding, calmly. "The books are created as needed. The best I can explain is that their magic fills a void born from powerful emotion. Anger. Longing. Grief. I've seen them come to others too, but it is always some emptiness the magic can fill. Always on your side of the veil."

"How many?"

His countenance turned cold. "Too many."

Sarah furrowed her brow and pulled her copy closer. The book was beginning to disturb her just as greatly as her earlier impulses. Something else bothered her as well. "So whoever obtained that copy did so in my world, then? Or was from my world?"

"I am aware of no other way to obtain one unless it was borrowed or stolen."

Sarah brought a hand up to her eyes, rubbing. That didn't narrow down any suspects. She dropped her hand and hesitated briefly, but then asked the question she'd refrained from demanding an answer to in the car. "What does this High Court do that might make them involved?"

He lowered what was left of his sandwich. "I will ask you again: are you certain you wish to know?"

She dug her nails into her palms. "Yes."

He frowned, but left the sandwich on his plate, moving his hands instead to steeple in front of his face. "What do you believe happens when a wisher fails to make it to the castle in the allotted time?"

"They return home without their child?" she asked, wary. He shook his head and Sarah's stomach sank."Why not?"

"The High Court does not allow it." He saw some of the blood drain from her face as she likely considered the consequences of not reaching the center in time, and continued. "Those who fail the Labyrinth's test are forfeit to your side of the veil. The Hgh Court...amuse themselves with those who've failed. I don't believe I need to explain that your kind are unwilling participants in these pursuits."

No, she could imagine well enough what he meant. Some form of slavery, pleasure or servitude, sprang to the top of her list. Forced entertainment. Torture? From his warnings, there was no doubt of the severity of the High Court's propensities. "What," and she swallowed, a thick coating of bile suddenly filling her mouth. "What does that have to do with me?"

"You left."

"So?"

He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, there was something different in his expression. Darker. Emptier. "No one else has."

* * *

_Somewhere in the Underground._

"The boy succeeded in obtaining the goblin. I've seen it myself. It is undoubtedly one of his. It is only a matter of time now, M'lord."

"Excellent work. And the book?"

"Delivered as requested," the servant bowed. "Along with the note."

The master smiled in his seat, crossing long legs and leaning back to relish in the ease of his plan. Tonight. He'd get his first taste of revenge tonight. And then, he'd take the only thing the king had ever truly wanted.


	9. The Gathering

For some seconds after Jareth's pronouncement, Sarah just sat, staring more through him than at him. Thinking. Deciding. She had needed a back-up plan to simple denial. There was only one thing she could think of that would get the agents off her back and foil any plot to frame her for the kidnapping: she needed to find the kid. She needed to prove she hadn't stolen him and had no desire to keep him hidden. And she likely couldn't wait for traditional authorities to do it on their own; even with the assistance of Grog. If this court was framing her for a political kidnapping as a way of _amusing_ themselves with the one person they hadn't been able to keep, she would be damned if she let them do it without a fight. Even if the court wasn't behind the ploy, her plan didn't change.

"We need to find this kid," Sarah asserted, standing to put together her own sandwich. Heavy thinking on an empty stomach was unwise; she remembered all too well how spectacularly her freshman year finals had gone on a dinner, and breakfast, of instant coffee. "Given what authorities already know, we can't just wait around and hope the agents find the kid and forget about me." She turned back to Jareth as she slathered mustard on one slice of bread. "Is there anything you can do to track him? Magically?"

Jareth finished off his last bite of sandwich and frowned, leaning back in his chair. "There are ways to locate humans, but I have not seen this child before. I have nothing of his. I do not know what to search for."

"But if you had something, you could do it?"

He hesitated. "Possibly. Depending on whether whoever took him did not mask his presence." He gestured at the book on the table. "After the book in the station, however, I find it likely the child is similarly masked."

"We have to try. I don't think I have time to just wait for cops to find him." Sarah returned to the table, sandwich in hand. He had seemed concerned enough about the book but had yet to guarantee he'd help her out of her predicament. Him personally locating a kidnapped child – likely _magically_ kidnapped – was never part of any deal. She found it notable, however, that he'd never offered to help personally find the kid despite apparently knowing a possible way to do so. Instead, he'd provided Toby an alcoholic spy and bargained his way into her apartment. She ground her teeth. He seemed likely to want something else for this assistance. Something she likely wouldn't want to give. Still, she asked. "Will you help me?"

She expected him to grin; to lean back in his chair, a haughty twitch at the corner of his lips that revealed nothing but immense satisfaction. The same look he'd given her in her office when he'd proffered her a crystal that seeped into skin. That time, for some still unknown motive, he'd wanted to assist. There was no reason to believe he wanted to entangle himself further in the kidnapping. She believed him when he asserted he had no desire to reveal his ties to Grog.

So it came as some surprise when the flash of teeth never came.

Instead, Jareth stood, expression severe. "Do not leave this apartment." And without even an acknowledgment of her question, he vanished. In his place, resting innocently on the table, was a single crystal.

Sarah slammed her fist into the table, scowling at the object. It did nothing to calm her.

* * *

Toby glanced over at his watch, temporarily clasped in Grog's hands as a distraction, before ringing Sarah's doorbell. He only had an hour or so before the agents needed Grog back at the station, bejeweled and ready to focus his attention on the cult instead of the hidden camera. There was some last prep work to do. He hoped Sarah and the king would have a quick solution to both of his problems.

Sarah opened the door a crack before hastily unchaining it and pulling Toby and Grog inside. "Thank God," she sighed. "We need to talk."

Sarah's relief at his appearance momentarily threw Toby off-guard. He didn't need to ask to know something was wrong; Sarah's march to the couch and subsequent collapse into it confirmed his suspicions. "What it is?" he asked hesitantly, watching her rub at her temples. It was a move she only resorted to when distressed. And he hadn't even told her his own distressing news about Murdock.

She dropped her hands. "The agents know I ran the Labyrinth."

" _What?"_

"Or they suspect it at least. I denied it, but someone told them about me and the Goblin King." She tossed the little red object at her side at her brother. "They showed me a copy of the book."

He caught it, taking one look at the book before glancing back at Sarah with wide eyes. "I _swear_ I didn't tell them—"

She waved him off. "I know you didn't. You're a terrible liar. It was someone else."

His earlier creeping feeling that something had gone wrong in Sarah's interrogation was proving correct. The agents would find the king 'unusual' if they at all suspected he wasn't human. Even more so if they suspected he was the Goblin King. "What about the memory wipe?" He hadn't quite understood what the king claimed he could do, but both he and Sarah had seemed confident it would work.

Sarah rubbed at her eyes again, plainly frustrated. "He said he couldn't do it. Some spell on the book prevented it."

The last part of the phrase never came, and Toby looked around quickly. But finding no sign of the king, he asked for her confirmation. "And you trust him?"

At that, she snorted. "In general? No. On this?" She sighed, dropping her hand again to glance up at her brother with somber resolution. "Yes. I'm confident he didn't want the agents knowing the goblin was his."

Toby stilled. That meant… "He told them he was the Goblin King?" Was that why the king wasn't here? Had they arrested him?

"No, and I don't think they've figured that out yet either; they let us leave. He just told them he was a 'collector'," she quoted in air, "and Grog was his." Sarah leaned back into the couch, closing her eyes briefly. "But with someone talking to the agents, I don't think it'll be long until they put two-and-two together. If the culprit knows I ran the Labyrinth, they clearly know who Jareth is." At Toby's furrowed brow, she clarified. "The Goblin King."

Toby nodded and looked around again. "Where is he?"

"No idea. I asked him for help and he vanished. He's been gone for hours." She gestured to an object on the coffee table, resting on a gathered hand towel from the kitchen. "He left that."

Toby recognized the king's distinct crystal. As with his own crystal, hers held a faint glow. He frowned. "Is that the help?"

"I doubt it. He didn't ask me for anything in return." Plus, he'd all but confirmed he couldn't track the kid without one of his possessions.

Toby nodded again, this time weary. If the king was gone, getting something to spell Murdock would have to wait. And given Sarah's already heightened frustration, he wasn't anxious to tell her about him until the king was around to possibly help. He had a more pressing need anyway; ensuring Grog paid close attention at tonight's gathering was one thing they both desperately needed. He cleared his throat. "The cult is meeting tonight. If Grog hears something about Olson's kid, we might be able to find him before the agents figure out who the king really is. I don't think they'll care about you if they have the kid. You didn't steal him."

"Tonight?" Sarah glanced at Grog, who had been too busy twisting a watch in his hands to offer any encouragement that he understood the plan. "Is he ready?"

Toby shook his head. "That's why I'm here." He gestured at Grog, still ogling his watch. "The agents want him to wear a hidden camera. The Goblin King forgot to mention Grog's interest in shiny things. I need to get him some…uh…shinier things to distract him from playing with the camera lens."

"And you came here because…?" Sarah didn't really need to ask; Toby barely made enough to pay rent. The watch had been a gift from their father when he'd been hired by the department, but she knew he didn't have anything else 'shiny' to loan Grog.

Toby grinned sheepishly. "Can I borrow a few things? Just for tonight?"

She wanted to say 'no'. She didn't trust the goblin not to lose her jewelry. Or swallow it. But Toby was pulling his familiar pleading look and Jareth was nowhere to be found, meaning she was currently without any guarantee he'd help her locate the kid. Grog was all they had at the moment. She stood, exhaling slowly through her nose. "Just wait here."

It wasn't long before she returned to the living room holding a small wooden box etched with vines of golden filigree. She'd seen the jewelry box in a thrift store window during college and it had immediately caught her attention, despite having few pieces at the time to place inside. Now, the goblin would have his pick of 'shiny' accoutrements. She handed the box to Toby with a pointed stare. "I want them back afterward. I don't think I need to mention how many favors you already owe me."

"Thanks, sis. The meeting is at midnight. Should I call as soon as it's over?"

"Yes. As soon as he's done." She didn't think she'd be able to sleep until she knew how it went, anyway.

"Got it." Toby turned to Grog and gestured for his watch back. "Time to trade. I've got what I promised." He lifted the lid slightly to prove he kept his word, and Grog perked, reaching for the small box. But Toby closed it swiftly, shaking his head. "Watch first. And then you have to promise Sarah you'll return her shiny things after you borrow them tonight, okay?"

" _Lady's_ shinys?" Grog looked quickly to Sarah, amusingly awed by her possession of jewelry.

She laughed. "Yes, they're mine. You can call me Sarah, though. I'm no 'Lady.'

For a second, Grog looked like he wanted to argue, but then, as before in the car, Toby noticed he'd gone gray. Sullen and silent. Toby nudged him with his shoulder. "You'll return them, Grog?

Grog just nodded, looking vacantly past Sarah.

For the second time that day, Sarah was decidedly unnerved. She'd only ever seen Grog exuberant, and the sudden change was jarring. Similar to his mercurial master when he'd dropped his glamour. "What was that?" Sarah whispered at Toby. Grog was still focused on something nonexistent in the middle of her hallway.

"I dunno. It happened once before. He has these mood swings." He grinned. "But watch; I can fix it." The creak of the lid lured Grog's brief attention, and that was enough to snap him back to his normal enthusiasm. One item stuck out to Toby and he pulled out a silver necklace and handed it to Grog's outstretched hands, all the while giving Sarah a curious look. The round, translucent charm shimmering at its end was unmistakable.

Sarah scowled. Of course, Toby would first offer Grog the necklace with a crystal. "Don't ask." She'd never worn it, but she knew exactly why she'd purchased it. Offered crystals were a memory she just couldn't forget. Hers, a substitute for others refused. Again, not something she'd ever mentioned to Toby, but Toby had now seen several of Jareth's crystals; she knew why his eyes had inquired.

She knew Toby wanted desperately to ask – he was too nosy for his own good – but he took a look at his watch and winced. "I've got to go. The agents wanted us back around now. I'll call later. C'mon, Grog."

Sarah watched the pair depart out the window as she locked the deadbolt again. "Come on, Grog," she whispered to herself. God knows where Jareth had disappeared to. Or if he would even come back.

* * *

Grog, decked out in several necklaces, a bracelet on each arm, and a silver ring with a jade stone, looked more like a misgendered flapper than a spy. But, as Toby turned back into the station, he decided the man-goblin never looked happier. If a few trinkets were all it took to keep Grog from playing with the button-camera, the ridiculous ensemble would be well worth it.

Collier and Steele both stood outside, arms crossed as if they had been waiting for some time despite Toby being only ten minutes late. Collier was a professional, but even he couldn't hide his amusement at Grog's accessories.

"That's what he needed to function?" he asked, shaking his head when Toby just shrugged. "The van is around back. We'll set him up there."

The van was nondescript: an oversized black box that might have once been used as a means to haul away boxes or bubble-wrapped furniture. Steele opened the double doors in the back and ushered Toby and Grog inside. On one side of the wall was a station of circuitry: screens and buttons and a mess of wires that looped around and under the monitors. Everything was off, but with the flick of a small yellow switch on the console table, the screens blipped on. Still dark, but humming with the whir of a small fan or motor. Grog, expectedly, oohed.

"Go ahead and change him back, Mr. Williams," Collier ordered, closing the double-doors behind him. "We'll test out the equipment."

Grog's decorations looked just as bizarre on his goblin form, the necklaces and bangles hanging precariously off a stubby frame of wrinkled leather. Yet, his smile never wavered, even as Collier pulled out the small black button-camera from his pocket and affixed it to the goblin's sack-like vest. "All set." Collier gestured at his counterpart sitting by the monitors, and with the flick of another switch, his face popped across one of the monitors.

Toby was impressed. He'd recognized that the minuscule camera would be hard to pick out, looking more like a button than a lens, but even the sheen blended into the dark cloth, leaving only the impression of a stain that washing failed to remove. The picture on the screen might have been clearer than even Sarah's small television.

"Good. It's working." Collier nodded as Grog puffed out his chest. "Don't touch it. Sound?" He looked back over at Steele, now holding up one padded headphone undoubtedly worth more than his month's pay to one ear. Steele gave a thumbs up in return. Collier nodded again and gestured for Toby to follow him up to the front seats. With a low rumble, they were off.

The trip was short. Collier pulled off to the side of a street downtown that Toby had difficulty recognizing in the dark, and turned off the engine. "Alright, Mr. Williams. We're here. Alleyway directly across. Make sure he knows what to do. We should be able to track him the whole time, but if he gets a whiff of something wrong, tell him to say 'pigeon'."

"Pigeon, sir?" That seemed an unusual choice of code words.

"They're all over the city. If he has to use it, tell him to point up."

"Yes, sir," Toby offered, climbing around the front seats to return to the back. Grog nodded fervently after Toby informed of him of the escape plan, and with another assurance that he understood what he was supposed to do, Grog slipped out the back.

Toby stayed in the back of the van, watching the alley loom on one of the monitors. It remained unrecognizable even as Grog hit the sidewalk and then started down the narrow carve-out between faded brick. Steele had set up the audio to come through the console speakers, and the faint garble of laughter could be heard as Grog ambled onwards. The flicker of firelight brightened the screen immensely when the alley opened.

As in several of the blurry photos, some sort of bonfire had been lit near a back corner. It was hard to tell how many creatures were holding up hands to the flames, but two goblins and something Toby could only describe as an ogre, nearly four Grog's taller than the goblin and covered in bulbous pustules, craned their heads back as Grog's jangling frame approached.

"Who 'er you?" someone demanded. The camera angle was poor, and it was unclear who had asked.

"Grog. I wants to join."

At that, someone grunted. But it must have been an accepting grunt because the screen showed the two goblins shrugging, and turn their heads back to the flames. The picture sharpened as Grog inched closer: seven to eight figures, ranging in size. The smallest had wings and flitted in and out of the picture, seemingly dancing across the top of the flames. The largest, as Toby had seen already, was the ogre. But up close, there were two; his twin resting half-asleep against the back wall. The sleeping one snorted out a snore as Grog's small hands raised towards the fire to mirror the cult members. No one spoke.

"Can you see Dylan anywhere?" Collier called back from the driver's seat, prepared to take off if Grog's cover was blown.

Steele shook his head. "Negative. No sign of the man either."

"Damn," Collier mumbled, facing front again.

Toby glanced at his wrist. "It's a bit before midnight, sir. Maybe that's when they come?" He didn't know much about cults, but midnight seemed like a meaningful hour if they really did perform rituals. Plus, none of the figures appeared to be doing any more than warming themselves by the fire. "They seem to just be…waiting."

"Let me know if anything changes."

The firelight and Grog's outstretched blanketed the monitor for several silent minutes. Toby checked his watch again: 12:04. The gathering should have officially started by now. If this man wasn't coming, Grog needed to drop the name of Olson's kid and see if the creatures knew anything. He knew why he was there. "C'mon, Grog," he whispered.

"Welcome comrades," a low voice bellowed through the speakers, and Toby stilled. "Welcome to the hour of penance."

"Sir—"

"I heard it, Williams. Quiet."

Toby refocused on the screen. Grog had obviously turned away from the firelight because everything was shaded by darkness. The faint outline of a cloaked figure shifted closer, but he was hazy and indistinguishable; a dark mirage against empty space. Still, the command laced through his welcome sufficed to identify him as their prime suspect.

The shadow opened his arms and the sleeves of his cloak rippled. "Gather around. I bring news of our endeavor."

Grog inched closer, steps behind creatures to his left and right. The man's features, however, remained indeterminable. Toby leaned into the screen, trying to make out _something_ to go off of, but until the man dropped his hood, it seemed unlikely he'd be able to tell anything by looks. The voice, low and tinged with a slight foreign accent, might be their best bet. Toby found something recognizable in its cadence.

"The boy is secreted away and the offering bestowed through free will. Soon, what was stolen from us will be returned. Its insurance will follow."

_Offering?_ Toby glanced at Collier in concern but not even a muscle on his face twitched at the mention of ritual. The agents, he supposed, had indicated they suspected Dylan had been caught up in something sinister. They had never mentioned anything being _stolen_ from the suspects, though. "Do you know what was stolen?" Toby whispered at Steele. But the agent didn't even turn to glance at him.

"The ruse was almost too easy." The low voice laughed then, skating a long-pointed nail down Toby's back. The rumble of other voices followed, a smattering of snickers and claps that pricked at Toby's remaining calm. Something was wrong. The voices too pleased. The mention of a _ruse_ rang warning bells, but before Toby could tell Collier or Steele that they needed to get Grog _out_ , the screen went black. Darker than the shadows, the warm whir of equipment the only sign the camera was still on.

"Oh, _shit_." Without thinking, Toby exited his squat and threw open the double-doors, just evading Steele's grasping hand.

" _Williams,"_ Steele hissed. But Toby didn't hear him, barreling across the street and into the dimly lit alley. Where moments ago, it had been filled with figures, now, only the embers of the bonfire remained. "Grog!" he hollered, hoping the goblin had simply scattered, but only the crackle of flames responded to his plea. They had taken him; the bastards had _stolen_ Grog. Vanished him into thin air. There was no way to tell where they'd taken him, or even if he still was in his world. Because the creatures surely weren't native to Hartford. Toby paled. He was dead. Better than dead. The Goblin King was going to murder him on the spot and then spell him back to life only to murder him again in an even more gruesome way. The king had been incensed when he'd he believed Toby had accused him of kidnapping. Now, Toby had sent his subject headfirst into a cult's trap. A trap premised in rituals…

"What a pleasant surprise," the shadows suddenly hissed into his ear. "Two of his tokens."

Toby was only able to shout 'pi—' before an unseen pressure overtook air and the ground dropped from beneath him, leading him down into nothingness.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who've read, bookmarked, reviewed, subscribed, or given kudos! You all make my day.
> 
> Any guesses as to what was stolen? Hint - it's not the most obvious crumb I've dropped, but it's in there. (And don't worry, while Jareth doesn't make much of an appearance in this one, that's not the case for the rest of the story. He and Sarah have some things to...resolve.)


	10. Suspicions and Admissions

The clock on the living room wall had to be wrong, Sarah decided, as she bounced one crossed leg over her knee on the sofa. There was no way it was nearly three in the morning. Toby had _promised_ he'd call as soon as the meeting concluded. Even if the meeting had started late, she'd never attended a meeting that lasted for longer than two hours. Especially one framed by ungodly hours. Something had gone wrong. She _knew_ sending in Grog was a mistake. Enthusiastic or not, he clearly had no business moonlighting as a secret agent.

Sarah uncrossed her legs and stood, quickly. There was always someone at the station. Even if the night shift didn't know where Toby was, they'd be able to connect her with someone who might. His boss had pulled him into this mess when he'd asked Toby for otherworldly help; she'd start with him.

The piercing ring of the phone supplanted that plan, and Sarah about ripped the phone from the wall as she picked up the call. "Hello? Toby?"

"Is this Ms. Williams? Ms. Sarah Williams?"

The hairs on her arms raised at the familiar voice. "Yes," she answered slowly, dreading the next questions. "Where's Toby? How did you get this number?" It was likely the government could track any number down, but she knew she wasn't listed in the phone book. A precaution recommended by her agent.

"You were listed as Mr. Williams' emergency contact." The agent paused, and Sarah could hear him crinkle bits of paper in the break. "There's been a development."

Sarah clenched her teeth. That was a delicate way of phrasing the need to call an emergency contact. With Jareth's disappearance and Toby's similar failure to check-in, her patience was shot. She knew the plan had been botched. "What went wrong?"

She could almost hear the agent rub at his eyes on the other line, sighing ever so slightly as her question trailed off. The chill at her neck, kept steady thus far only through stubborn resolve, was writhing now, the ice in her veins fighting against the gnawing pit in her gut. " _Tell me_."

"I'm sorry Ms. Williams, but he's missing. Both of them are."

_What?_ She gripped the phone tighter, catching herself on the hallway wall as she staggered on her feet. His answer was far worse than she suspected. Almost inexplicable. "Missing? What the hell do you mean they're _missing_? Weren't they with you?"

"They were. The meeting had just begun when the goblin…disappeared. Steele tried to stop your brother from leaving the van, but…" he trailed off, clearing his throat as if he was embarrassed by the failures of his associate. "We suspect whatever happened to the goblin happened to your brother, as well." He paused again, waiting for Sarah to respond, but her restrained growl urged him to finish quickly. "Can you and your fiancé come back to the station? We realize it's late, but there's something I need to show you. Bring whatever you need for the immediate future. With the latest, my colleague and I are concerned you are at risk too."

_No shit._ That was clear as day now. This wasn't about a kidnapping; it was much, much bigger. She was confident now that someone in the Underground – likely this abhorrent High Court – was carrying out an elaborate plan to harm and blackmail. Blaming her for crimes and then stealing away her closest ally; taking away _family_ and her link to updates of the investigation. All designed as retribution against her for escaping their 'amusements'. Which was absolutely ludicrous. They had no claim to her.

Enough was enough. The bastards had crossed a line. Despite their meticulous plans, they'd underestimated her will to protect her brother.

_…for my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great…_

_Vastly_ underestimated.

"Ms. Williams?"

The agent's follow-up brought her back to his inquiry. She did appreciate his concern, but it was laughable that the agents thought they could help her, particularly when the call was premised on them apologizing for losing her brother and Grog. No, at this point, traditional authorities were useless. The issue was, presently, she had no idea where her 'fiancé' had run off to. Still, and she eyed the crystal resting on her coffee table, she suspected she could find him quicker than they could.

"I appreciate the concern, but I'll be fine here. I'll speak with my fiancé and get back to you." She heard him try and argue, but instead of reaffirming, Sarah slammed his rebuttal into the holster on the wall. He'd figure out she wasn't interested in his offer.

So, that left Jareth. She walked back over to the coffee table, frowning at the iridescent crystal still resting on the towel. She hadn't wanted to touch it earlier; he'd given no explanation for leaving it, but the glow inside warned her that it was more than a paperweight. It held some sort of power. She still didn't want to touch it, but given how skittish Jasper had been after his first return, she wasn't sure her poor cat would survive another wish. Which left wishing _herself_ away – an entirely detestable option – or trying the crystal.

She pushed up her sleeves before grabbing it with a scowl. Something warm and wild pulsed beneath her palms, pressing just against the barrier between glass and skin. Recognition flared at the memory of magic. And she closed her eyes because it felt right. There would be no wishes. She knew other words too; words that had called her friends across the veil.

"I need you, Jareth."

The world lurched immediately. Sarah fought to keep upright, but a pressure squeezed inwards and colors whirred and she was forced to reach out to steady herself on cool stone. The crystal slipped and shattered, and only when her stomach stopped roiling did she allow herself to look at where she knew – because she had been _mad_ to think her gamble would turn out otherwise - she'd appeared.

The castle beyond the Goblin City: an obvious place for Jareth to have gone. Likely just waiting for her to get antsy enough to pick up his 'gift' and call him. Grinning madly at the realization she'd taken the bait.

Damn him.

She had no idea where in the castle she'd appeared. Her recollection was limited to an unkept throne room, a few hallways, and the expanse of impossible staircases. As a teen, the exterior had seemed massive, so there was no telling how long it'd take her to wander aimlessly before she found him. The hallway she'd landed in was long and quiet, framed by faded oil paintings of rolling landscapes and tattered draperies that seemed unnecessary given the lack of windows. Floor to ceiling stone and heavy ornate scones, lowly lit, lined the spaces without embellishments. She focused little on anything but the doorways, pressing against any door she came across without success.

But even as she moved up and down empty hallways, she knew he was here. She _felt_ it. Finally, some ways up a long staircase, she found a half-open door, beckoning her inwards with amber light.

She didn't bother to knock on the door, marching instead towards the expansive desk shaded by an engrossed corn silk head. He was writing vigorously, the tip of his quill sweeping across pages as if clearing them from the words instead of drafting missives. He didn't appear to notice her entrance.

"You have some nerve, bringing me here."

His quill froze and he looked up, and by the brisk widening of eyes and stiff shoulders, she appeared to be the very last person he expected to find in his castle. But just as quickly, the look morphed into his familiar ease, and he leaned forward, dropping the quill and resting the side of his face against a gloved hand.

"If I had known you were so intent on keeping to me, I would have brought you," he said, and a corner of lips twitched as Sarah's look darkened. "But I should have suspected you'd ignore my command."

"Your crystal—"

"Held magic; yes. But no transportation spell," he cut in, now openly grinning. "You sought me, I assume."

He didn't phrase it as a question and that was just fine by Sarah; she had no intention of encouraging his ego. When she instead crossed her arms and shifted, he let out a soft laugh and leaned back in his chair. "I did tell you my suspicions were correct, _Sarah._ "

Sarah felt herself flush unconsciously as he purred her name, and she grit her teeth, grinding slightly in hope that the pressure would distract her from whatever promise his suspicions suggested. He was infuriatingly smug with himself despite her never giving him more than a fantasy dance, lingering hallway glance, and some forced reaction he'd somehow compelled. She still wasn't sure what he had done; as with most of his responses, now included, his words were more riddles than answers. She wanted to ask what sort of magic the crystal _had_ held, but he was sure to deflect. That wasn't the only thing that set her on edge, and she forced herself forward, despite the heat still tinging her cheeks. She needed something more important right now.

She pulled out one of the spindly chairs in front of his desk and sat, leaning forward to meet his grin without flinching. "They took Toby and Grog."

"Beg pardon?"

"The cult. The agents called me and said they _disappeared_ at the meeting."

His grin finally fell as he processed her words. "Disappeared," he repeated, toneless. And before Sarah could relay the little the agent had told her, Jareth pushed back his chair and stood, grabbing the parchment on which he'd been writing. She tracked him as he moved quickly towards the open window, carved out of the stone, and with a twist of wrists, the parchment shifted into one of his familiar crystals. He didn't hesitate to gift it to the night and Sarah watched as it floated away, flickering briefly in the glint of moonlight.

"The boy is not here," he offered mildly, still looking out the window.

"What?"

"Or if he is, he is exceedingly well-hidden."

"The politician's son?" Sarah questioned, furrowing her brow slightly. "You said you needed something of his to find him."

He turned then; expression calm. "I would have. Another didn't."

More riddle-speak and deflection. But he returned to his space at the desk and sat down again, almost awaiting her questions. She had her suspicions, too. "Is that what you've been doing down here? Asking around?"

"In a manner of speaking. I called in a favor from an old…acquaintance. I am confident her information is true."

"An acquaintance?'

"Yes."

His accompanying wry grin was explanation enough for the role the woman held, but when combined with the pointed pause, Sarah had no doubt about the nature of their relationship. Despite efforts to control it, Sarah's nails curled into her palms. "How can you be so sure?"

He looked at her for a long second, and then tilted his head thoughtfully, the wry smile never leaving his lips. "Surely you know why."

No, surely she did _not_. She was going to throttle him. Was he so confident in his prowess that he believed his sexual partner would never _lie_ to him? She scoffed. _Men._ But that was beside the point. Even if the missing kid wasn't here, that didn't mean Toby and Grog weren't. He'd been surprisingly nonchalant about one of his own subjects disappearing.

"And Toby and Grog? Can this acquaintance find them too?"

"There's no need," he drawled, and he called another crystal and set it on the desk between them, pointing as she stared. "They've hardly disappeared."

To say Sarah was surprised would have been an understatement, but his earlier indifference to her news now made sense. The figures in the crystal were hazy, as if a thin layer of gauze had been thrown atop the scene, but Toby's blond head and Grog's shining accessories stood out against the drab surroundings. Stone. Low lighting. Another castle? Without asking, Sarah grabbed the crystal to get a closer look. "How…?" She glanced up.

"Really, Sarah," he derided. "Surely you didn't think I left Grog with the boy without a way to locate them? Given the absurdity of his request, I suspected he'd require assistance."

For once, Sarah didn't mind Jareth's slight of her brother; he had been right to suspect catastrophe. She looked into the crystal again, turning it slightly in an attempt to make out specifics of their surroundings. "Where are they?"

"Underground, assuredly. Well within my reach."

She tore her eyes from the figures, both of whom appeared to be lying down in wherever place they'd been taken. She had no way of knowing precisely where if Jareth refused to elaborate. Still, "we need to get them."

His raised eyebrow was unexpected, as was his easy lean back in his chair. "They appear to be in no immediate danger. They were obviously taken for a reason," he said, crossing his arms against his chest casually. "It makes little sense to inform whoever took them of the futility of their gambit until we know what they desire."

"You just want to _leave_ them captured?"

"For the moment. I suspect they'll make their intentions known shortly."

"What if what they want is Toby?"

"Doubtful," he scoffed. "Then there would no reason to detain Grog."

Sarah frowned, leaning back in her own seat as she mulled over Jareth's words. Loathe as she was to admit it, as long as he was confident he knew where Toby was – and could recover him if need be - she saw the benefit in keeping that hand to themselves until they figured out the captor's end game. This had something to do with _her_ – every other move they'd make thus far made that certain - but she held no ties to Grog. While she obviously didn't want him harmed, it seemed a move designed to rankle Jareth more than her. Which was doubly troubling. She had no idea what sort of enemies he possessed or what he could have done to trigger them stealing one of his subjects.

"Who did you offend?"

He looked momentarily startled and despite the situation, Sarah reveled as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. As per usual, however, any sign of surprise settled quickly and he eyed her coolly. "Only those who earned the offense." He didn't wait for Sarah to inquire further before he pushed back his chair again and stood, moving around his desk quickly and towards the half-open door. He leaned against it, ticking his head at Sarah when she remained still in her chair. "Come, Sarah."

"Come where?"

"Since you obviously desired to be here," he started, quirking a lip again when Sarah's scowl returned, "I assume you'd appreciate a tour."

"Of your castle?" She stood, shaking her head with a snort. "You can just send me home." If he was resigned to waiting for the demands, there was no reason for her to remain here; as there was no indication the suspect yet knew of how involved Jareth was, she suspected any demand would be relayed in her world. Actually, she remembered, moving briskly to meet him at the door, there _might_ already be a lead back in Hartford. "The agents want to speak with us at the station. They said they had something to show us."

"Unsurprising," he offered blandly, not moving from his tilt against the door. Which irked Sarah immensely. If anything, he seemed bored with the news that the agents wished to see them. His head jutted out towards the hall again.

"I need to go back," she insisted, crossing her arms instead of allowing him to order her down the hall. On top of not needing any tour of a castle she had no place in, the agents were sure to follow up again, if only to reiterate their concerns.

But he didn't even flinch at her rebuttal, tilting his head slightly as if considering whether there was any veracity in the statement. When she too held steady, not even shifting on her feet, only then did he push deeper. "Did your authorities indicate it was urgent?"

Sarah opened her mouth to affirm it _was_ , but when she saw his raised eyebrow, almost knowing, she sighed. He likely would see right through any exaggeration. "They seemed concerned for my safety."

He pushed off the door then, seeming to finally get the answer he'd wanted. "I assure you, no harm will befall you here."

Sarah pursed her lips at his retreating figure but saw no choice but to follow him as he turned out the door. With the crystal shattered, she was well aware her return depended on his willingness to take her. There were no guarantees there. Even now, with his suggestions and 'suspicions', she had little idea of what motivations he held. But he obviously wanted _something_ that involved her. She took a deep breath. She needed to go home. Now was as good a time as any to get that answer.

"Just tell me what you want, Jareth."

He stopped in his tracks some feet in front of her. Not turning. Not speaking. But then, a low rumble of laughter, warmth that she _felt_ in her gut in spite of the expanse of cool stone, relayed his unexpected pleasure with her demand, and she too stilled. It had been foolish, she decided at that moment, to demand anything of a king in his own castle. Even more irrational when she didn't know what she was asking for. But there was a weight now against her chest and she couldn't force out the revocation.

She realized he must have spelled her again because when he finally turned and moved towards her slowly, unspeaking and unblinking, she was unable to look away. She was unable to do anything but support herself against one side of the wall as he closed the space and leaned over her, one arm angled up against the wall and the other waiting at his side; the warm rumble of laughter instantly replaced by the warmth of spices and sandalwood and something uniquely _him_ that she had pushed from her mind when he'd tried this before. But now, there was more than curiosity in his mismatched eyes, inches away, and as she tilted up again, she wasn't at all afraid that he would close the remaining space. It was the lack of fear that terrified her.

"Only the truth, _Sarah_ ," he whispered, allowing himself to come within a hairs breath of her lips but not any further. Still leaning down as if the truth he expected was for her to lean _up_ to meet him. Somehow, she heard a whish of fingers over her ragged breathing, and she caught the glint of crystal as he pulled back just slightly to balance it between them. "Answer one question and I'll take you Above."

"Wh-what question?" she asked, wincing slightly at how breathless she'd sounded. It was doubtful she'd be able to answer anything he asked; whatever spell he'd cast had hindered rational thought. He was too close, but something railed that he wasn't close enough.

He smiled then and Sarah's swore he'd never seemed more victorious, despite her wagering nothing. The crystal slipped and before she could follow it to the floor, where she eventually heard it shatter, he caught her chin with his hand and pulled her lips to his.

She should have expected the press of warm lips, the hand that must have been dragged from the wall to grip her hip and pull her tight against him so that she was trapped between the heat of his body and the rough stone. But her mind was clouded and his scent was everywhere and made things even hazier. If she had expected it, she tried to reason as his hand cradled her face and the warm swipe of his tongue demanded entrance, she would have pushed him back instead of grabbing desperately at his shirt to pull him closer. Instead of forgetting where she was and who she was with and allowing herself to kiss him back. She wouldn't have allowed herself to utter even a gasp of breath, let alone the indistinguishable moan as the hand at her hip slipped just under her shirt to splay on her lower back, somehow free of its leather glove. The hand memorizing the angles of her face, she realized absently as lips asked the only question he had wanted her to answer, similarly ungloved.

She must have shifted - or had he picked her up? - because instead of cool stone, her back suddenly rammed up against the scratch of wood and the rounded knob of a door, and with an ill-advised _press_ of his hips against her own, she fell backward into the open doorway. Only when she landed, breathless and now detached from the distraction that was Jareth, did her mind clear. His breathing appeared similarly ragged, and the tousled strands of hair lead her only to believe that sometime during the haze that her hands had tangled themselves in his hair.

_Oh. Fuck._

She changed her mind in an instant; _that_ smile had never been more victorious.


	11. Silent Victories and Unknown Victors

The victorious smile lingered when Sarah remained sprawled on the floor for some seconds, mouth agape and breathing ragged. She imagined now, with her wordless admission of attraction – because there was no denying that's what it was - his grin would remain even when she turned her focus towards finding her footing. Any moment now. She'd stand and hold him to his promise to get her _out_. She'd figure out what to do about the rest…later. After she regained some semblance of rationality. Soon, she hoped, her pulse would slow. The rush of blood to her head and the pounding in her ears would settle. And whatever he'd done to rend her usual good sense would fade. She was human. He was…not, but he was a _male._ It was purely hormonal.

The smile still hadn't fallen.

Purely hormonal, but _highly_ irrational. With that look, kissing the Goblin King was too dangerous to be rational. Give an inch, and he was certain to take a mile.

Unfortunately, however, the door was open. She was a pitiful, breathless mess on the floor. And there was nothing she could do to wipe the smirk off Jareth's face before he sauntered through the doorway where he hovered above her, hands on his hips, for another long moment. Just... _staring_. Like the self-proclaimed collector of rare things that he was. But there was a glint in his eyes that she'd never seen before, and it _screamed_ that he was relishing the sight of her flushed and wordless underneath him. An even more dangerous position, on her end. She was confident the sudden flecks of darkness in his eyes were him imagining her sprawled across a softer surface. She wondered what hers told him. Irrational things, assuredly.

 _Damn_. With a huff, she pushed herself up on her palms.

It was a start, but had Sarah been wiser, she would have also stood immediately. Or at least attempted to stand. If she had, she would have realized the bonds in the hall had been imagined. She could have spun to look at her surroundings and seen the expanse of red and faded gold, and presented her _own_ question to the king-without-a-spoken-question instead of remaining sprawled across the library floor. But the sight of him standing above her, eyes inching closer to midnight, snatched any remaining wisdom away. He was still grinning.

Until he wasn't.

Jareth pulled up Sarah just as his eyes widened and before she could catch her breath or feet. Dizziness overtook the pounding in her head as he pinned her against him and in an instant, her feet found worn Berber carpet. The sight of pasty plastered walls, however, did little to steady her pulse as he kept her tight to him. The warmth of his body and his hands on her waist and back and the scents of spice and sandalwood were beating back her rational side again and she felt her eyes flutter in memory. But then, he let her go, stepping back only slightly and mirroring his former victorious look so well that she wondered for a moment if she had imagined the brief panic in his eyes.

But, no. It had been sudden and unexpected, but unimagined. And as seemed always to be the case with him, something about his actions wasn't _right_. "What…the hell…was that?" she asked, needing to catch her breath between words.

"A bargain kept."

"I don't remember…answering any _questions._ " That also explained _nothing_ about their abrupt departure.

She was certain his smirk was now permanently burned into her mind. It stayed as he tilted his head slightly, joined now by the precarious lift of a brow. "Didn't you?"

She scowled at him, knowing there was little she could say that would dispel the impression her responsiveness had given. Arrogant bastard. At the moment, it seemed wiser to ignore it, however. Even if she knew how to address their (plainly, _mutual_ ) attraction with him, it was certain to be an arduous and complicated conversation. And they had other places to be and kidnappers to catch. Her irrational attraction would have to wait. When after a moment, she remained silent, she saw him tilt on his heels, still holding his amusement like a cloak. And then, he nodded towards the door.

"You mentioned that your authorities wished to speak with us?"

It appeared he too was willing to put the kiss aside. With him, the reprieve was sure only to be temporary, but she'd take whatever she could at the moment. Processing took _time._ "Yes. They said they had something to show us."

He frowned. "Let's hope it's nothing as troubling as the book."

* * *

It ended up being immensely more troubling. And of course, it still involved the book.

Jareth had reverted into the not-so version of himself, replete with an even brighter sheen that made Sarah squint when she stared at him out of the corner of her eye. It was obvious that whatever ability she'd gained to see through his glamour was strengthening. While the unknown reason for the change was mildly concerning, she did appreciate the idea that she had some defenses to whatever magic he was wielding.

Sarah had called ahead, so the two agents and an unknown officer were waiting for them outside the station. All three had similarly grim expressions. Meaning, none of them had any good news. She wasn't surprised.

The man she didn't recognize as an agent offered his hand. "Ms. Williams. Lieutenant Murdock. But you can call me Tony. I work closely with your brother."

Sarah returned the motion. "What is it that you wanted to show us?"

"This way."

Instead of leading them towards the small interrogation room, the two agents and Murdock lead Sarah and Jareth back towards the large conference room at the station's end. The long table was filled with various folders, papers, and open books, leading Sarah to believe this was where they'd been holding up for the evening. At one of the agent's gestures, she and Jareth took seats mid-way down the table. Murdock locked the door behind them.

The agent who had shown her the book leaned over the table. "You understand that this is highly unorthodox, but given your brother's disappearance, we've come to believe it necessary." He paused, and then from the accordion folder on the table in front, he pulled out the small, red leather-bound book that had given her so much trouble. He shoved it down the table, nodding. "Front cover."

Sarah made to grab it, but Jareth was quicker. She glanced at him with a scowl and then winced. _Damn glamour. Damn inhuman reflexes._ She heard the creak of the cover, however, and tried to remain calm as Jareth read it aloud.

_Should you wish to know the party responsible for Dylan Olson's disappearance, find Sarah Williams. Ask her about her long relationship with the herein mentioned Goblin King. He is far more and far less than he appears._

_The cult will meet tonight. Midnight. In the alleyway between Haynes and Pearl._

_\- Your Friend, A.H.C._

"At the time, it was our best lead," the agent cut in after Jareth's low voice had tapered off, "but, well...then this all happened."

"You were set up," Sarah groaned, bringing a hand to her eyes. Her suspicions had been correct: whoever had snatched Toby had been the one who'd sent the book. And he was calling himself 'A.H.C.' She glanced quickly at Jareth, tearing, but if he recognized the name or handwriting, he'd masked it behind indifference. She returned her focus down the table. "Collmer, was it?" she asked, now stringing contempt through her words.

"Agent Collier, ma'am."

Sarah looked at him sharply. She didn't need to be _ma'am'd_. "Collier. What else did this 'friend' tell you?"

Collier frowned. "He gave us the initial tip about the cult and where they would next be meeting. He also sent several photos."

That, of course, did nothing to prove he was a 'friend'. Had they not found an anonymous source sending photos of _goblins_ suspicious? "I'm assuming _none_ of you have ever met or spoken with this 'A.H.C.'?" A guilty silence was all she needed to groan again. With this incompetence, it was no wonder there was so much crime in Hartford.

She doubted there was more, but she asked the question anyway. "Did this 'A.H.C.' send or tell you anything else? Something to help identify him?" Not that these authorities could _use_ such info, but perhaps, it would give her and Jareth a lead. Initials weren't much help. Especially if the culprit wasn't a part of that abhorrent fae court. But still, the three men clung to silence as if it would shield them from her irritation.

It did not.

Sarah said nothing as she stared unblinking, though the men must have finally sensed her anger because even Collier's once-stoic partner looked like he'd forgotten his wife's anniversary. He leaned forward in his chair. "Do you know anyone who might wish to harm you or your brother? Someone with the initials A.H.C.?"

She again looked at Jareth, but nothing in his glance had changed, so she exhaled. She saw no reason to send them on a wild goose chase. "No."

The two agents shared a dark look. But, when Collier turned back to her, the ferocity had fallen into concern. "Then it would be best if you stayed under our protection. Both of you. Until we know what we're dealing with."

"Sarah will be safe with me."

She hadn't turned, but she felt his glamour spark wildly at the pledge. She heard it sizzle and _pop,_ then settle into a warm hum just under her skin. The sensation was eerily akin to that of his former crystal. And she knew without understanding that it was something magical and _unbreakable_. Something she'd never asked for and though noble, something that was certain to be rife with unwanted consequences. It was impossible to decide whether that was more reassuring or troubling.

It was undoubtedly powerful; neither agent nor Murdock tried to argue. None so much squeaked out a question.

Oh, _she_ had questions about it. They would be riddled with choice words, of course, and perhaps delivered in a different octave. But, if the agents weren't going to press the issue of her staying under their protection, hers could be asked in private. Along with the question of whether Jareth knew this 'A.H.C.' or had any insight on who might call him out or what they possibly could want from them. And then there was the matter of rescuing Toby and Grog. And last, the impossible mess that was her attraction. She and Jareth seemed to have an ever-mounting number of issues to discuss and somehow, each one kept binding them tighter together.

She frowned as she stood, allowing Jareth to guide her towards the conference room door. Why wasn't she at all surprised?

Better yet: why was that connection more thrilling than bothersome?

* * *

Something was dripping on his forehead. A thick, gloopy something that was now making its way into his eyes and beginning to clot his senses.

Toby pulled up from the wall, rubbing at the corners of his eyes before he opened them to stare at the substance on his fingertips. Red. A deep, _deep_ red that Toby quickly rubbed off on his pants with a groan. Only after he'd pulled away completely did Toby look up at the driblets of blood as they leaked in an agonizingly slow drip, drip, drip on the cement beside him. The spatter just missed staining Grog's cloth and steel foot coverings, though his even, nasally breathing told Toby that Grog was none the wiser to their dreary accommodations. Dripping blood. Steel bars and jagged, enclosed stone. And no sign of Collier, Steele, or an _escape._

He'd _really_ done it this time.

"Grog," he hissed, shaking one of his small shoulders, "wake up." Instead, Grog mumbled something that sounded vaguely like ' _Budsizer'_ and Toby groaned again, throwing his full weight into the motion. "Wake. _Up_. I've got ale."

Grog reached blindly with one hand, but he was obviously still immersed in whatever beer-laden dream had caught him, so Toby sighed, leaned in, and tried another of his addictions. "And shiny things."

The crack of bone on bone momentarily stunned Toby as Grog snapped up into his forehead, and both released a yelp; though Toby's was far more pained than startled. Grog, however, appeared entirely unharmed. When Toby focused on him again as his dizziness faded, he was bouncing on his toes with palms as big as his eyes and absolutely _no_ inkling of concern.

As expected.

"Shiny!"

Although still smarting, Toby couldn't stop his half-grin. Goblins _really_ weren't that complicated. It was unsurprising Sarah had bested the Labyrinth as a teen. Toby unlatched his watch and after a slight hesitation, pulled the cuffs out from his back and offered both to Grog. It didn't seem like he'd be using them on any perp tonight, anyway. "Here."

"Oooooo," Grog cooed, hanging one cuff off a pointed ear. "Shiny 'rings!"

Toby snorted. Not at all complicated, but the jewelry obsession sure was bizarre. Was the king _that_ into jewelry? He shook his head. Bizzare, but unimportant. "We've got a problem, Grog. Someone snatched us and I have no idea where we are or how to get out."

Grog scratched at his tuft of dark hair. "But we 'sposed to do the snatchin'."

"I know. But can you get us out? Can you do any magic?"

Grog shook his head, jostling the cuff from his ear. "Jus' king."

Toby grimaced. Of _course_ , it was just the king. Could he call the king here? Sarah could, but Toby had always suspected that was a power unique to _her;_ there was no boy hero or cop-in-training in that strange little red book. It was the whole reason he'd roped her into the kidnapping in the first place. Still, if Grog was magicless, that was all he had. Unless... Toby reached into his right jacket pocket and palmed the king's crystal. He'd said it could be used to disguise Grog. But what if it could do more?

"Grog-"

"Could ya keep it down? Tryin' to sleep," a cracking voice cut into Toby's question, and Toby shifted on his heels to stare behind him.

The lighting in the cell was low, but in the far most corner against stone, a figure sat huddled with a tattered brown throw over his shoulders. Toby squinted, but only upon stepping closer did he spot the leather-like skin, pointed horns and ears, knobbly hands, and small, armored helmet. Goblin. Definitely. But he was far skinnier than Grog, and instead of a protruding nose, his was nearly flat and upturned. And he was so small it was unsurprising Toby hadn't noticed him before.

He looked altogether sad and harmless, shivering under his makeshift cloak, so Toby hunched down in front of the fellow and instinctively offered his hand. "I'm Toby. What's your name?"

The goblin stared long and hard at Toby's hand, then tucked his chin inwards again without shaking. "Dough," he huffed. "Name's Dough."

"Dough," Toby repeated as he dropped his hand. After Grog, he was unsurprised this goblin was named after food. Another of their addictions. "Nice to meet you. This is Grog. Have you...have you been here long?"

Dough shrugged. "Don' know. Master brought me. Hadn' come back."

Toby stilled. "Your...master? The Goblin King?"

"No," Dough grumbled, shaking his head. "Not him."

Toby waited, but the goblin had pulled his cloak down lower as he turned away, and it was clear he didn't want to elaborate. Which, he conceded, was perfectly understandable if the bastard had abandoned him in a dungeon cell. At least it wasn't the Goblin King. He had enough to worry about already. But - and he scooted closer again - Dough seemed likely to have the answer to one of those worries. "Do you know where we are?"

"Ardbinse," Dough huffed again, though this time, it was accompanied by a sharp shiver. "Bad place."

Toby didn't doubt it. Good places didn't often come with bleeding dungeon cells. He sighed. He also didn't recognize the name; which meant they were likely far from Connecticut. Like, _under_ it. "Well, we need to get out of here. Do you want to come with us?"

"We gots shinies!" Grog added quickly, holding up Toby's watch.

That definitely piqued his interest. Dough lifted his head, and for the first time, Toby saw something other than despair in his big, brown eyes. But, just as before, he snapped his chin downward without shifting. "'Sposed to wait here," he sighed.

"For what? I don't know who your Master is, but he's an asshole for leaving you down here." Toby paused when Dough lifted his head again - his mouth now as wide as his eyes - and he reached in his pocket again to palm the crystal. He refused to let the poor guy rot here. "C'mon. I might have a way out of here, and I promise things are better where I'm from. Have you ever had a french fry?"

"Crunchy finger-tatoes!" Grog chirped. "Tasty!"

At that, Dough cracked a tiny, three-toothed smile and shook his head subtly. He shrugged off his makeshift shawl before reaching down to fiddle with something under his horned helmet. With a tilt of his head, he offered a tiny palm out to Toby. "I do like 'tatoes," he softly affirmed. "And fingers."

Toby stumbled; partly from the image of Dough chomping on _fingers_ , but mostly from the small, metal object resting on his leathery palm. The goblin really _had_ just been waiting. Ordered to wait? But, for what, he couldn't guess. He did know one thing. "We're getting out of here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So...hi again! I realize I've blown through my goal of updating this one every two weeks. But, I did post three completed stories since the last chapter here, so at least I've been productive? Still - apologies! There are several really key plot points above to make up for it, and an almost-easter egg for those who are familiar with the novelization. This is my only WIP, so regular updates to follow again.
> 
> As always, much love to all readers, commenters, and kudos-givers! Y'all are the best.


	12. Secreted Names

Though neither of the agents nor Murdock had followed them out of the conference room, Sarah allowed Jareth to lead her all the way to her car. For perception's sake, of course. In case someone else had been watching as they passed under the glow of streetlights at the edge of the lot. Not because her skin now thrummed with warmth at the hint of his touch or that his proximity suddenly soothed worries and confusion. Certainly not either of those things.

"You know I felt that," she mumbled just before they reached her car. Soothed, but not _eliminated._

"You were meant to," he said simply.

She opened her door, sighing. Despite everything, getting information out of him continued to be as difficult as pulling splinters from a feral cat. "And would you care to explain just what you did? And why? I don't recall giving you permission to use magic on me."

"Would you have preferred the hapless protection of those authorities?"

 _No._ At least, she assumed not. "I never planned on agreeing to their protection. It's clear they have no idea what's going on. But I would have appreciated you _asking_ for my permission first, Jareth. Even if you are trying to help." She turned towards him, then shut her eyes completely when a rush of tears blinded her. It was even worse than before the station. One of those unwanted consequences, she presumed with a groan. "Can you drop that? There's no one here and I'm not going to be able to drive with you blinding me out of the corner of my eye."

He raised one brow, then flicked a hand and the guise faded completely. "Better?"

"Yes," she said, scowling at his grin. Did he know the glare was worse? That now, the shimmer of arched brows and wild hair melted completely through his disguise? Her frustration always seemed to bring him amusement. Given that, she didn't bother asking; she thought it likely. "As I was _saying_ , I don't appreciate being blindsided with magic. I know deals with you have consequences."

"This was no deal. You are simply under my protection."

She rolled her eyes. "Simply? Nothing with you is ever simple."

"Most things, no," he replied with a quirk of lips. "But this one very much is. I have powerful magic at my disposal. You do not. Given what we just learned, it was necessary."

Her hands stilled on the key in the ignition. "So you know who's responsible? This 'A.H.C.'?"

"No. It is someone who knows me - who knows us - but my kind do not use names in the same manner as humans."

"What does that mean?"

He hesitated. "Names, like words, hold power. While we have surnames, it is considered...unwise to share them with anyone apart from family or one's intended. Even initials and first names could be dangerous if they fall into the wrong hands."

"I know your first name."

He arched another brow. "Are you planning on usurping me? Using me to do your bidding?"

"Of course not," she scoffed. Though, her pulse had flickered at the second. As did the memory of something else. Because at that time, she _had_ been attempting to defeat him. Had Hoggle known? Could she have used it then, and avoided the rest of the Labyrinth?

Jareth didn't appear to notice Sarah's crinkled brow, as he continued easily. "Then you, unlike the unknown culprits, are not the wrong hands."

"Wait," she said, snapping her focus back. "Culprits?" Hadn't he said he didn't know who was involved? "You think it's multiple people?"

"No," he shook his head. "Not multiple people, but multiple culprits. This scheme has required a significant amount of planning. There have now been three kidnappings; two of which were carefully lured through the book. But the book materializes only in your world and whoever took Grog and the boy are from the Underground. There is cross-dimensional coordination."

"Wonderful," she said drolly. "So there's another human around here working with a fae."

"It would appear so. Someone who knows you. You were not lying when you told them you didn't know anyone named 'A.H.C.', I assume?"

"I'm sure I know people with those initials. I just can't think of anyone with them who'd want to harm me or Toby, or who would know you or know my history with you. I've told no one but Toby, and he swears he hasn't passed it on." She groaned. "Which _means_ someone from the Underground is going through a lot of trouble to get to us by roping in a human. Just who did you piss off and what would they want, Jareth?

He hesitated, but when she turned again, staring hard, he responded with a grimace. "Without any demands, it is hard to say who might be responsible."

Again; why wasn't she at all surprised? Even in her limited time with him, she'd learned he was a near-impossible mix of seduction, arrogance, and riddle-speak. He'd probably pissed off most of the Underground. Certainly most of the males. "What about this court? Could they still be involved?"

"Yes. Which is precisely why you are under my protection. I trust you remember why."

Sarah felt her stomach drop. Oh, she absolutely remembered—she didn't even need Jareth's suddenly dark countenance as a reminder. It was hard to forget the look he'd given her in her kitchen or his revealing she was the _only_ one who'd left. She rubbed at her eyes. "So, what do we do now? I don't like the idea of just waiting around for a demand."

"There is...someone we can contact. It will cost us something, but she might be able to give us insight on the High Court's involvement."

Sarah immediately recognized that pause. But, despite her less than hospitable feelings for the woman, she pressed forward with only a small frown. "Your acquaintance? And how would she have any information on that?"

"Because she was once a member."

" _What?_ Why the hell would you believe anything she said about the missing kid in the first place? You basically said the court hates humans!"

"As I told you before, she owed me a favor and I used it to inquire about the kidnapped child. She could not have lied to me if she knew. And she does not hate humans. It is part of the reason why she is no longer with the High Court."

Sarah felt her lips purse. She wasn't particularly thrilled about seeking out one of Jareth's lovers, but she also wasn't fond of aimlessly waiting—especially when it was at the mercy of her brother's kidnapper. So, she bottled her irrational jealousy alongside her irrational attraction and sighed. "Where do we find her?"

* * *

Dough's key fit perfectly.

With a quick twist and a frown, Toby turned it in the slot and pushed the door wide open. Goblins were a strange bunch, but he was struggling to see why Dough had been intent on waiting for his master to return instead of using the key to bust out of the cell. The poor guy was plainly miserable. He supposed Grog had followed most of his own commands, so maybe they were just an obedient bunch when given the right bribe? But, besides the cloak, it was hard to tell if Dough had been given anything.

Toby sighed. It was also hard to tell if anyone else was in the dungeon, and that was the more pressing matter. The last thing he wanted to do was alert his kidnappers that he'd escaped. He twisted towards both directions of the hallway, listening for voices, but besides the dripping, he couldn't hear anything. The cells to the front and sides were all empty, as was the hall itself save for a few scattered torch lights and large patches of cobwebs. So, he waved both goblins out with a whispered "c'mon" and jut of his head. "Do you know the way out of here, Dough?"

"T-think so," he said softly, shivering again. Dough shuffled past Toby and after glancing both ways, turned left.

Toby followed Dough and his tattered brown cloak past a good twenty cells. None had been occupied. Well, occupied by anything _alive,_ at least. Toby was trying his best to forget about the pearly-white skeleton they'd just passed on the right. Tall. Human shaped. Still chained to the wall...he clenched his eyes shut. They had to get the hell out of this 'Ardbinse'.

"What do they do here? Why the need for all these cells?" He also found it odd that besides his own, they'd all been empty. That never happened at the station and clearly, this place had been built to hold hundreds.

Dough stopped suddenly, then twisted his head back. "Don' know 'lot, but Ardbinse a fae place." He shuddered. "B-bad place."

Toby frowned again. He wasn't sure what a "fae" was, but with the dungeon and Dough's plain fear, it had to be some sort of dangerous magical creature. Likely the shadowy guy at the gathering. He was also pretty sure that was who snatched him and Grog. "And the fae are bad?"

"N-not a-all of 'em." Dough shivered again and drew his cloak tighter. "S-some k-kind t-to u-us."

Toby's chest clenched as Dough became a soft, skipping record. "Are you alright, Dough?"

"F-fine. J-j-jus' c-c-cold. B-b-b-b-in 'w-while s-s-since f-f-food."

Toby decided he was going to kill Dough's master if he ever met him. Or at least throttle him until he apologized to Dough. Bastard. Without another thought, Toby shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around Dough, cloak and all. Its ends dragged on the cement behind him, but Dough gave an appreciative coo as he snuggled into it and Toby smiled. "Better?"

"Mhmm."

"Good. The exit's got to be here somewhere."

"Think this way," Dough said, pointing down the small corridor that cut between cages to the left. The hall was lined with more lit torches than their current path, so Toby took that as a good sign, even though he still couldn't see a door or stairway.

"After you, Dough."

After a few minutes, Toby was certain they were on the right track. There were no cells, to start, and the torches placed every few feet were all lit. And where cobwebs had flooded the last hallway, he'd not seen one since they'd turned. Someone had frequented this one. Or, at least had singled it out. Toby could also swear he heard faints murmurs. Low humming?

"This it," Dough said, pointing up high to a large slab of stone on the right side of the hallway. "Four scratch for up."

Toby followed Dough's tiny finger to the spot of the wall bearing four slanted scratches into stone. They weren't that deep and likely had been carved, but Toby couldn't shove aside thoughts that the lines reminded him of claw marks. Long and _vicious_ claw marks. But carved or scratched aside, he didn't at all see how they meant _up._

"How is this our 'up'?" Toby traced the scratches with a finger, hoping it was a trip wall of some kind, but the stone didn't budge. He instinctively looked around for something heavy. "Do we need to bust through the wall?"

Grog suddenly clutched one leg, and Toby felt tiny claws pierce through his pants. "That _blood_ door."

"A _what_?" Toby shrieked, glancing down at Grog's blanching face. "What's a blood door?"

"Bad door. King warn us 'bout."

Toby paled. If the Goblin King was warning his subjects about 'blood doors', he didn't want anything to do with them. Grog hadn't even been _stunned_ by their head crash. He doubted much could get through their thick, leathery hides, so any warnings for goblins went three-fold for him. "Is there another way, Dough?"

"Don' know. Came in here."

_Shit. So Ardbinse was a place of bad creatures, unknown "bad things," and bad doors. And for the second time: blood._

Unfortunately, Grog didn't appear to know more, and even if he did, he appeared too frightened to elaborate: he'd smashed his face against Toby's leg, too nervous to even _look_ at the door anymore. Toby frowned at Dough. "Why would someone be warned about this door?"

Dough - predictably - just shrugged. "Master fine with door."

That wasn't much help; Toby didn't even know who or _what_ his Master was. He was possibly one of these "fae" but with the little information Dough had offered, he could also be some indestructible ogre. "Let's at least look—"

_*schreeeeeeeeeeeeeeee*_

Toby winced as the sharp screech echoed, then _yelped_ as Grog's claws bit deeper into his leg. "...What was that?" He'd seen no signs of life, but it didn't take long for images of nails and claws to storm back. Claws _scratching_ against stone as they ambled towards...

_*SCHREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*_

Toby twisted back down the hall. Both screeches had echoed from where they'd already traveled, and the second was plainly louder. Whatever is what was getting _closer_. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as a distinct _clip, clop, clip, clop_ joined the long scratches against stone. Claws. On hands _and_ feet. And then, something _growled._

"Shit," Toby hissed, snapping his eyes back towards the scratches on the wall. There wasn't time to find another exit. The wall was flat aside from the scratches, and as he'd already run his fingers across them without breaking skin, Toby took one last look at Grog before he leaned down and pulled Grog and his pant leg away in two swift motions. A quick swipe of his bleeding leg and then against the wall scratches, and with a low rumble, the wall slid back to reveal a winding narrow staircase.

Toby raced up the first few steps so fast that he didn't even turn to see if the goblins had followed.

It would be another thing he'd come to regret.

* * *

When she'd asked, Sarah had been well-aware that Jareth's "acquaintance" lived in the Underground and that seeking her out required leaving the Above. What she hadn't realized, however, was that it required leaving behind a lot more than that.

"What's wrong with how I look?"

Jareth raised one brow as he leaned against her bedroom door. "Who said there was anything wrong? When traveling around the Underground, however, you cannot appear as you are. We still do not know who is targeting you."

"They are targeting you too," she countered with a frown. "And you never mentioned any 'traveling'."

"Rielle lives in a rather...remote part of the Underground. It is not someplace I can transport us directly. She has prevented it."

Sarah snorted. Perhaps she was an _ex_ -lover, after all. _Smart woman_. "She's prevented just you?"

"No. Everyone."

 _That_ was unexpected, and Sarah paused before asking warily, "why?"

"She has a very good reason," he replied casually, quirking a grin. "Knowing her, you'll realize it as soon as we arrive."

Sarah knew better than to expect more clarity, so she just sighed and turned back to her closet to rifle one last time through her dresses. "I don't have anything like what you've described, Jareth. If you already need to glamour me, can you just magic me clothes too?"

"Assuredly," he drawled. "Is that what you wish?"

"Yes," she answered. She spun around and rolled her eyes at him. "Just do it."

"Very well," he said, chuckling low, and a sudden flash of warmth curled below Sarah's stomach as she watched him push off the door, eyes hooded. Slowly, he moved towards where she stood before the closet. Never once did he blink. Neither wrist twitched until he'd made it just before her and as he reached one gloved hand towards her hip, Sarah realized with a pang what he intended to do.

Her breath hitched as he lightly traced one hip; around the arch of her back, left to right. Then, his fingers slowly trailed up her side, sending little shocks of heat down to her toes. "...What," she swallowed, "what are you doing?"

"Fulfilling your wish." He leaned in to whisper against her ear. "Try to stay still, Sarah."

He had to be mad, she decided. Completely _insane_. She too, actually, for allowing him to _touch_ her like this. He'd now moved his hand to her front, circling one shoulder blade before he moved to one arm. Then, down the other - just as slow - and Sarah could barely keep her breathing steady when he shifted his hand to her collar bone. He paused, all the while focusing on her eyes and Sarah realized as her pulse thrummed that he was asking _permission_ to continue. Gods, she was _mad_ , but she nodded just slightly, and with expert precision, his hand moved lower, until it slowly traced down and around the swell of her breast. One, then two. Still, his eyes never left her own. Sarah knew hers again had darkened to match, but she kept her body miraculously steady as his fingers finished memorizing the curves of her chest. One last trace of burning fingertips around her front waist and with a small twitch of lips, he leaned in again.

"It'll be easiest if you close your eyes," he whispered.

They were already fluttering slightly, so she didn't hesitate to seal them tight. She felt his hair brush against the side of her face as he pulled back, though she knew he was still close; she was drowning in the heady scent of sandalwood and spice. Something in the air stirred and _sparked_ and she felt fabric melt, then tighten around her hips and breasts. Pant legs loosened, then vanished, and a rush of cool air flowed around her calves and thighs. A corseted dress, she could tell, from how deliberate his fingers had been. A new excuse for why she could barely breathe.

"...Is that it?" she asked.

"Not quite."

She heard the smirk in his response - heard the heat of his intent - so she didn't even flinch when she felt his lips back on hers, stealing whatever breath she'd managed to keep. As he caressed her lips, one hand moved to cradle her face, tracing the curve of one cheek with a thumb before he smiled into her embrace. Because she _knew_ he could tell she was fully willing to partake in this memorization exercise. As soon as he'd pressed his lips back to hers, she'd drawn him close—one hand at the back of his neck, grasping at hair. He let her lead for a moment but kept pace with smooth swipes of tongue and a steady press and release. Back and forth. Nipping and caressing. Each kiss, a shot of heat and lightning that fanned down her chest. She knew what she was doing, but she decided she didn't care; she could at least blame her fervency on assuming it was needed for the glamour to take. Reason to balance her irrationality. Her lips tingled with static electricity. Her ears itched, then warmed. And with one last nip, he pulled back.

"Now, _Sarah_ ," he said, curling more than syllables through her name, "you are ready."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Much love to all readers, commenters, and kudos-givers! All comments and guesses on what's going on are welcomed. I love to hear your theories. And if you are a close reader, you might already be able to identify at least one of the unknown culprits. Maybe more. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> This plot came to me in a vivid dream. Except a mystery / romance, with some needed goblin humor mixed in for good measure.


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